Slave 020140: The Sequel
by Kitty Rika
Summary: The complicated lives of one ex slave, and the men she cares for - obessions, addictions, uncertainty, and Kakkarot is hiding the biggest secret of all. [Bulma & Vegeta]
1. An excerpt from the laws of Vegetasei

I just want to say thanks to all those inspired me, in more ways than one, '18, Camaro, Chibi, Cherry, Shelly, and PP, you all know who you are.  
  
And a big thanks to my Beta: m.z*d.e.e  
  
*** Chapter one: An excerpt from the laws of Vegeta-sei  
  
Life rarely turns out like we expect, but we have to faith, and just trust that things will turn out all right, because it may be the only thing we have left to hold on to...  
  
"Law 189503, section 7, article B, roman numeral XIV:  
  
To share quarters with the current Vegetasian ruler, one must be of the following: The Betrothed, Mate, or Pet..."  
  
King Vegeta paused for a moment, not removing his eyes from the parchment in the book, but instead, his eyes lingered on the words. It was as if he was making a decision, a very important one at that.  
  
Taking a deep breath, that sounded very much like an exasperated sigh, King Vegeta seemed to be debating whether or not to read aloud a certain word, as much as he seemed to be deliberating the idea of running a hand through his hair in frustration.  
  
Finally settling on not actually doing either, for neither appeared to be appropriate in the current situation, his focus returned to the book in hand. His eyes seemed to skim over a word or two, eventually after much deliberation, he decided to continue.  
  
"The ruler can't have more than one of the previously mentioned, and a man/woman of the opposite gender of the ruler, who is not one of the afore mentioned, cannot be in the highness's presence without an escort, or guardian, only staying as long as necessary. There is no exception to the rule.  
  
Excerpt from - The Laws of Vegeta-sei"  
  
In the back of her mind somewhere, Bulma was sure King Vegeta was still speaking, for she could see his lips moving up and down, but somehow she couldn't hear him, silent words reaching her ears; she realized that she was in trouble. Her breath caught in her throat, sitting like a lump that she couldn't seem to swallow.  
  
Bulma stood there, her eyes fixated on King Vegeta, unable to tear them away from him, for she seemed to be loosing focus on everything around her, not even Prince Vegeta's yelling brought her out of her state.  
  
It had only been two weeks since when Bulma's life had been changed forever, when she had attempted to run away, her emotions running away with her. But at the last moment Vegeta had shown up and, spoken to her, in a way, that Bulma had felt inclined to proclaim her love for the young man, and even after two weeks Bulma still hadn't figured out whether or not it was in a romantic sense, or a purely platonic way.  
  
Either way, Bulma in the end had discarded all plans with Yamcha, leaving him to fly away, and her to run in a way that would have even made Vegeta proud. Even though she had scrambled and fell several times, her knees still black, blue and yellow from fading bruises, Bulma had made it back to the room seconds before Vegeta, and had an eternity of waiting.  
  
It had seemed like that was the perfect beginning for a budding romance between the two, who had taken over a decade to get to the point they were now at, but the truth was, it was far from a beginning, for there was a new conflict that had arisen.  
  
But this time, it was not Bulma's strange feelings, standing between her and Vegeta's own experimentation with their feelings, for now it was the laws of planet Vegeta.  
  
Someone with nothing better to do, and the feeling that the king, who was anything but, would be proud with the discovery, had pointed out a long since seen law.  
  
The king was trying to remain impartial sounding, but with his temper, it was like tying up a wounded animal with string. Soon King Vegeta would lash out, but in matters like this, he had to do it the right way, stand back and wait till the moment was right, then find a way around the rule.  
  
Unfortunately Prince Vegeta couldn't understand this, so he was currently screaming and yelling obstinacies in protest at his father, and anyone in the vicinity who looked like they heard this rule, let alone agreed with it.  
  
Many who heard Vegeta's rants looked scandalized, eyes wide, and their mouth hanging open slightly. But that didn't stop Vegeta, who grabbed the nearest saiyajin by the collar and screamed something in his face before tossing him aside, as if he was nothing.  
  
Had this not been a very serious issue, the king would have been amused by his son's violent temper, but instead he kept a stoic face, and sat on the throne, looking down at all the people below. It was then his gaze, somehow came back to Bulma, who had long since slumped to the ground looking, as if someone had violently hit her to the ground, dazed and confused.  
  
It almost broke the old man's heart to do, what he knew he had to, for the sake of his kingdom.  
  
"Guards!" King Vegeta bellowed, saying the one word, like a pre-programmed set of instructions, the two men immediately flocking to Bulma's side, each taking one of her arms firmly, which looked rougher than it really was. Their fingers were not pressed into her lithe arms, but instead, just held around them loosely. It was more for show, than anything else.  
  
Though, violent or not, it got no reaction from Bulma who was still slumped on the ground, staring up at the king with a blank, far off look.  
  
The only one who seemed to react to this sudden, unexpected seize of the girl, was Vegeta.  
  
"BULMA!" he cried, attempting to run forward, only to have Nappa raise an arm, attempting to hold Vegeta back, with nothing more than one thick arm. Vegeta snapped his head up, looking up at the man with a panicked expression, he was clearly distressed as it was, but having Nappa prevent him from going to Bulma, seemed to only add to his stress.  
  
The look in the guard's eyes alone could have stopped Vegeta in his tracks, and even though he could over power Nappa if he so chose, Nappa's arm held out to the side, made him think twice.  
  
Nappa merely shook his head as a sign that Vegeta couldn't go to her, being the one man who had some insight to King Vegeta's thoughts, Nappa knew it was not wise for Vegeta to interfere now.  
  
Immediately, Vegeta quickly turned back to Bulma, whose eyes, although glazed, looked like they were going to spill tears any moment now. And that's what did it to Vegeta, his face scrunched up as if he was going to cry, and with the amount of anguish in his expression, he might have very well been.  
  
"It's okay Bulma...it's all just a mistake...I'll figure something out, I promise-"  
  
It was almost pathetic how Vegeta dejectedly called out words of reassurance to Bulma, as they dragged away, out the doors of the throne room, and to who knows where. As soon as the main doors closed shut behind the guards who were escorting Bulma, a deadly silence overcame the hall, and everyone looked to Vegeta who had become eerily quiet as soon as Bulma was out the door.  
  
The prince, in a way only royalty can after a scandalous event, stood and straightened himself out, as if the scene never occurred. No one attempted to speak, and risk setting Vegeta off again, but for a moment, all looked fine, until Vegeta turned to his father, his eyes narrowed threateningly, his voice even, yet deadly.  
  
"I. hate. you"  
  
And then, he left.  
  
Striding away, leaving everyone in the room to stand speechless for a good while afterwards, not quite sure how to respond to the most epic drama to ever see the light of day on Vegeta-sei. Any other controversial affairs like this, always occurred in private, so although everyone found out about them, they never actually witnessed them.  
  
So it was quite a shock to watch Vegeta's outburst, and guards had to literally usher them out of the room, leaving the king to stare into space, where he had seen Bulma only minutes ago, every fiber of her being silently crying for help.  
  
Now, he only had to figure out how to give it to her...  
  
***  
  
(AN: A quick interlude to the drama...)  
  
Meanwhile, at Brolly's quarters...  
  
Brolly, currently sprawled out on his stomach on the floor, peered under his bed, seeing nothing but two boxes, several pairs of mismatched boots, a cobweb, and something that looked remotely like a severed human hand - nothing out of the usual - he stood up.  
  
Brolly looked around, apparently not finding what he was looking for, he did what any grown man would do.  
  
He called for his mommy.  
  
"MOM.have you seen my pet?" His voice hitting a high, whine-like, note whilst calling 'mom', apparently not entirely gotten over the awkward voice breaking years. His mother, with her sharp saiyajin hearing, winced from the high-pitched sound. Having several walls between her and her teenage son did nothing to help protect her from his voice.  
  
Absently twirling one of her small golden hoop earrings around in her ear, Brolly's mother made her way to Brolly's bedroom, praying that his voice remained even until the end of the conversation. Brolly's mother stood in the doorway of her son's bedroom, which looked remarkably similar to Vegeta's room, only smaller, not so lavish, and somewhat messier.  
  
Looking rather bored, as do most upper classmen no matter what the situation may be, Brolly's mother unenthusiastically looked around the room, trying to confirm that her son's pet was really not in the room.  
  
"No.where did you see him last?" She asked seemingly unconcerned about the welfare of the pet, but instead studiously examined her nails. Not showing any signs of interest what so ever, not even raising her eyes from meticulously studying her nails, in an offhanded tone, asked.  
  
".it was a 'he', wasn't it?"  
  
Brolly considered this.  
  
Yamcha had been a male...hadn't he?  
  
Oh, of course he had, him and Bulma had been 'involved'.  
  
"Yeah, it was a 'he', but I'm not sure where I last saw him." Brolly answered thoughtfully, staring into the distance, wondering just when had he last seen Yamcha.  
  
"Brolly! You didn't flush him down the toilet like the last pet, did you?!" his mother scorned lightly, as she still continued to look over her nails,.  
  
"Err.no." he assured his mother, but not looking at all so, his mother failing to notice the not-so-subtle, nervous, glance he took in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
Several seconds of silent passed.  
  
"So." Brolly started hopefully, "can I get a dog?"  
  
His mother shrugged. "Sure, can't see why not."  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile.back to the drama.  
  
Taking her by the upper arm, one of the guards had the displeasure of rough handling the young woman, who seemed to not notice as he shoved her into the mud. She fell into the mud with a splat, immediately falling onto her knees, her hands the only thing stabilizing her, preventing her from falling face first into the mud. Not that her face wasn't already covered in a water brown wash of mud from the impact of her fall.  
  
Her face down cast as she stared at the mud that her wrists has sunken into, her hair limply hanging in her eyes, the blue ends soaked through with muddy water, and even though she had been through so much, her hair was only slightly disheveled.  
  
The guard who had pushed her into the mud, ran a calloused tanned hand through his short black hair, and with a deep sigh that could be consider an unspoken sign of guilt, he muttered a "sorry", and immediately walked back towards the palace.  
  
The other guard who, until now, had made no acknowledging gestures of her, or his own presence, walked over to Bulma.  
  
She did not look up, but it was easy to tell he was in front of her, the mud splattering against his shiny white boots when he walked, and the sound of the mud squelching beneath his weight would have alerted Bulma, had she been paying attention.  
  
Slowly, he hesitantly crouched in front of her, wordlessly; he attentively placed the object he had been carrying in his spare hand, in the mud beside Bulma. Bulma did not look at her shackles the Saiyajin guard had left for her, nor did she watch as the young man left, leaving her all alone.  
  
Alone.  
  
Suddenly...the rain began to fall.  
  
With a shaky gasp, Bulma then realized one thing: she had to take responsibility for her actions.  
  
She had to acknowledge, the fact, that because of her little 'stunt' she was no longer Vegeta's pet, she had no obligation to stay with him, see him, and she had no right to be held in his arms.  
  
So, now, after no struggle against two strong castle guards, she had been dragged outside the castle, and thrown into the muddy, puddled street, where the rain pelted down in a seemingly melancholy state to match Bulma's own.  
  
But now, the shock, and indignity of it all had worn off, and now all she felt was numb. Although, not from the rain that was burning her skin with it's icy touch, but from the pain of the rash reality of it all.  
  
That she couldn't go back to Vegeta.  
  
Not now, not ever.  
  
Sinking further into the muddy puddles on the street, the rain making it impossible to distinguish her tears from rain, and her eyes glazed from shock, Bulma mindlessly picked up the shackles. As soon as she picked them up, mud ran off them, dripping back into the mud below, from which it came.  
  
Bulma looked down at the silver chains in her hands through rain-blurred lashes. Every second she looked at the item in question, it only helped her to sink further into depression, and before she even realized it, she sobbed, clutching the chains close to her chest.  
  
Not caring that the mud from the shackles only helped to stain her clothes beyond recognition, till the point the once pale, slightly opaque outfit, became soaked through, clinging to her body like a second skin.  
  
The only thing animated about her void like appearance, was her violently shaking body as it raked with sobs.  
  
Her crying would go unnoticed, and that only helped to increase the sobs, as Bulma's eyes remained staring straight ahead, unfocused. presumably they were running over memories of the past. When things had been so simple and carefree, back before she had given it all up for a mere few moments of freedom.  
  
And that is how, I'm afraid, they found her.  
  
It was bad enough to have the knowledge that their friend was in trouble, but to see her like this was too much. For what seemed like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, the boys could do nothing but stand there, and blink mindlessly at their friend.  
  
They weren't ready for this, they had only be informed of some of the recount, and so had not yet been ready for such a scene. Although, if you had asked them, neither would admit that they'd ever be ready to handle such a situation.  
  
Looking toward his brother for some sort of support, or at least to see his reaction, Kakkarot saw nothing but a young man looking as devastated as if he had been the one affected. Radditz's empathy for Bulma was almost as heartbreaking as Bulma herself.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Kakkarot summoned up all the emotional strength he had, walking towards Bulma hesitantly. He was afraid of what state her mind was in, from the sight of her sobbing, mud-coated frame, Kakkarot could not even begin to imagine how she must feel.  
  
And so taking that into consideration, Kakkarot crouched down in front of Bulma, and unexpectedly he gently placed his large hands on her shoulders, pulling her into an awkward embrace. Kakkarot smiled sadly, and with a few reassuring murmurs that was only heard by the two of them, Bulma fell to sleep against his chest.  
  
Her forehead resting against his chest, while her warm tears fell unnoticeably, and the rain pelted down regardless.  
  
No one said anything.  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
***  
  
[ SPACE FOR RENT ]  
  
This is the space, I'd usually thank/ answer the reviewers questions, and maybe even other B/V fic recommendations, look for all that, here, in this space, next update.  
  
Tenshi Kanashii. 


	2. Dwelling upon the past

Sorry for the how long overdue this chapter is.  
  
Personal problems.  
  
Self explanatory.   
  
But, I'm sure you'll all love this chapter - and if you don't...well, then your not a fan of angst.  
  
Once again, thanks to my Beta: m.z*d.e.e  
  
***  
  
Chapter two: Dwelling upon the past  
  
It is when we dwell upon the past, that we find ourselves alone, and unhappy.   
  
Our own self pity, only serving to make us delve deeper into our delusions, of times since gone.  
  
Until the point, we become lost...  
  
"Bulma..." Kakkarot whispered breathlessly as he stared at the woman gathered in his strong arms, looking down at her with sympathy, and love.  
  
Kakkarot had, after Bulma had fallen asleep in his arms, taken the liberty of carrying her back to his and Radditz's apartment.  
  
Gently Kakkarot stroked Bulma's hair with a tender caress that Radditz would never even imagine the klutzy boy could posses.  
  
When Kakkarot did finally drag his gaze away from Bulma to Radditz, he looked as if, by holding Bulma, he was holding a fragile object already broken by someone else, and that it pained him both physically and emotionally to do so.  
  
Without a word, Kakkarot walked over to his brother, not taking his gaze off Bulma as he did, Kakkarot carefully placed her in Radditz's arms that accepted her body into them with no hesitation what so ever.   
  
Radditz wanted to smile at how good it was to have Bulma so close, but couldn't muster one up.  
  
He felt so bad for Bulma, who was so confused and pained about all the recent events, and he couldn't feel happy while she, even why sleeping, cried with silent tears slipping down her cheeks, transparent, but not unnoticed reflection of how pained she was.   
  
"Radditz... " Kakkarot started, as Radditz looked up, he was met with the awaiting gaze of his brother, who was looking very grim indeed.   
  
Grim, being almost an unknown expression to Kakkarot, so to have such an innocent young man looking so melancholy and serious; it said something about the severity of the situation.  
  
"Kakkarot?" Radditz asked, in confusion and concern, only now remembering that Kakkarot had only minutes ago passed Bulma over to him.  
  
Radditz had been so caught up in the moment, he had forgotten entirely.  
  
Taking the way his name was said questioningly, as an unspoken question, Kakkarot gaze fluttered to Bulma as she made a loud sob in her sleep,   
  
the silent tears falling more noticeably now.   
  
Radditz followed Kakkarot's line of vision, only to look back up at his brother puzzled, wondering what was going on.  
  
"Take care of Bulma" Kakkarot paused momentarily before continuing,"there's something I need to do".   
  
Radditz could only nod, and watch as Kakkarot turned and left the room.   
  
The quiet click of the door; the only evidence that Kakkarot had been there, or left at all.  
  
Sobbing in her sleep for what seeming like the umpteenth, heartbreaking time, Radditz stared down at Bulma, unable to comprehend how it all got so bad, so quickly, after years, of what he liked to think of as, 'normality'.  
  
But it had, and so, unconsciously clutching Bulma to his chest in a metaphorical attempt to protect her, Radditz, not paying any notice to the dirty laundry, or any other item under foot as he walked in a direct line across the living room, Radditz padded down the hall, and to his room - the one that didn't smell like leftovers - and with his foot, nudged the door open.  
  
It was a plain room.  
  
Sweaty fighting gear dumped unceremoniously in one corner, dirty gi's everywhere, a bed and trunk - to keep his clothes in - the only real objects in the room.  
  
Had Bulma not been in such a state, or had this been two weeks prior, Radditz might have cared that Bulma was sleeping in HIS bed, or that the room itself was in an embarrassing state.  
  
But right now, his main objective was to simply lay Bulma down on the bed, push the multiple items onto the floor, and cover her with his basic style white sheet, tucking her in like a child, all the usual suggestive thoughts that might have made him blush in this situation, suddenly inexistent.  
  
For so many years Radditz would like to fantasize what it might have been like to be in Vegeta's place,   
  
being the prince, and having Bulma by his side, blindly devoted to him, and him alone.  
  
It was such jealousy, which fueled many a great spars between the two, Radditz's envying the whole Bulma/Vegeta situation, while Vegeta feared the threat of Bulma spending so much time with a young, saiyajin man - with whom many of the hours spent together was alone.   
  
But now, Radditz felt disgusted in him, for he would never trade all those years of innocent intimacy with Bulma in the prince's place,   
  
for the price, for having to be the one that caused Bulma this unfathomable misery that she was now enduring.  
  
In an attempt to ease her mind, and his own, Radditz leant forward kissing Bulma's forehead, the tears immediately subsided, drying on her flushed cheeks as every second passed.   
  
It wasn't till her lips parted slightly, that the biggest shock of all occurred, pronouncing each part of his name, Bulma breathlessly whispered the name,   
  
that was indirectly at fault for her current predicament: "Ve-ge-ta...".  
  
  
  
At the mention of the prince's name, Radditz sighed, and gruntingly pushed himself away from the bed, making himself comfortable in the corner of the room, beside the dirty pile of laundry, from where he could sadly watch Bulma, as she slept.   
  
For Radditz, time was frozen, the only thing that moved was Bulma as her chest rose and fell with her heartbeat, although she would also take a shuddering sigh every so often to show she had been crying at one point, even if she had long since ceased.  
  
Radditz could no longer tell if he, himself was breathing, not that he ever stopped to think about it.  
  
For in reality he was to busy staring at Bulma, looking at her, but not really paying much attention to her.  
  
Radditz was too busy thinking of times such as when Bulma had been small, and had her first fight with Vegeta.  
  
Radditz nearly laughed sadly at the thought of how simple things used to be.  
  
Bulma had 'run away' to the place where Radditz, and Kakkarot previously lived, before they moved out of their parent's house.  
  
That had been the last time he had seen Bulma crying to such a degree, Kakkarot had made a cubby out of the sofa,   
  
while Radditz let Bulma cry into his lap - the very first movie night.  
  
It was easy to see why Bulma honored the otherwise seemingly pointless (other than the fact it was fun) tradition.  
  
She, wanted to feel like she could go somewhere without Vegeta.  
  
Talk about irony.  
  
Running a hand through his hair, a strange sight as his hand bumped into the very wall he was leaning against, Radditz stood up.   
  
Just before padding out the door, he re-tucked Bulma back in, from were her turmoil filled slumber caused her to push the blanket off.  
  
Making no sigh, or any other sound of recognition, Radditz left the room, slowly closing the door, so when Kakkarot did return,   
  
their talking didn't disturb her sleep.  
  
For Radditz felt he needed to talk to someone about this.  
  
As the light seeping into the room, narrowed with the slow creaking of the door, Radditz took one last reassuring glance of Bulma before closing the door.  
  
Instantly, Bulma gripped the sheets tighter in her sleep, unconsciously realizing the loss of his presence, letting out a moan of protest.  
  
Hearing the soft sound through the door, Radditz let go of the handle and proceeded back to the living room, unable to stay in her company any longer than necessary.  
  
It was like living through torture, not being able to do any more than just being there.  
  
His brother, although, Radditz would never believe it, had gone to do something to help Bulma, other than just being there.  
  
And while Radditz would have liked to have gone out, to personally shove his fist full force into Vegeta's gut, causing him to gasp for his very breath,  
  
a feeling not at all unlike what Radditz experienced while near Bulma, Radditz knew better than to challenge Vegeta to a dirty fight, without rules.  
  
Radditz, may have felt the need to defend Bulma's honor, but he knew allowing his anger to cause him to blindly attack Vegeta, would only help to upset Bulma in more ways that one, and get him a good beating in the process.   
  
Even if it would help vent some of his anger.  
  
For now, he would settle for throwing, the one classy thing in the two young saiyan's apartment, a vase, into a wall, the dark blue ceramic smashed instantly upon impact.  
  
Radditz's chest heaved from anger, his mind lingering on the disturbingly violent, visuals of what he'd like to do to Vegeta (not a good way to think of your future ruler...) as he stared upon the shattered object all over the floor.  
  
His eyes clouded over, and the harsh reality of it all finally broke him down, the last of the affected to do so.  
  
His manly loud, crying echoed through the room as he slumped onto the couch burying his head into his shaking hands.  
  
"Why?" Radditz rasped, asking no one in particular, trying to choke back his tears with deep sobs, but as the tears flowed, he seemed to have more and more trouble keeping the pain inside.  
  
"Something about a law." interrupted a voice from the doorway, Radditz knew well enough who it was, but looked up to see who was standing there.  
  
Bathed in light from the glow shinning into the room from the hallway behind him, Kakkarot stood there, looking as serious as he was before he left,   
  
if anything more so, but yet slightly less angered.  
  
Not getting any sign of recognition of that he had even spoken from his brother, Kakkarot stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, with little attention to volume of the sound as it clicked behind him.  
  
Walking towards the couch and sitting beside his brother, Kakkarot made a sound of exasperation, he seemed tired, not physically like one would normally assume, but rather emotionally from the strain of it all.  
  
Resting his elbows on his knees, Kakkarot placed his chin in his hands, as if trying not to let all his pent up frustration get the better of him.   
  
So far it was working, but there was no telling how long it would last.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Kakkarot continued, whether his brother was listening or not, it had to be said, and Kakkarot was not quite sure whether or not he should tell Bulma.   
  
"There's a law...now that Bulma's officially been freed, she can't live the way she's become accustomed to over the last 12 or so years..."  
  
Kakkarot sounded as if he was reading this directly out of a text book, the tone of his voice unwavering as he spoke, but for a moment he paused, reflecting back on what he'd been informed, and without a second glance at his brother, who was now watching his Kakkarot as he listened intently, Kakkarot continued.  
  
"To do so, she'd have to be his betrothed or mate - neither of which she is... pet - which she has only just recently been freed from...or..."  
  
Suddenly Kakkarot made a strangled, chocked sound as he trailed off, this, combined with the unaccompanied 'or' at the end of the sentence   
  
intrigued Radditz greatly, bringing him out of his rut enough to question it.  
  
"Or?" Radditz asked dumfounded, Kakkarot took an obvious glance towards Radditz's bedroom where he knew Bulma was resting, before he dared to even answer, although, this was one question Kakkarot did not even wish to dignify with an answer, but his brother had a right to know.  
  
"Or...bed warmer" Kakkarot whispered quietly, as if it was a sin to mention it, phrasing it as nicely as possible, not using the vulgar terminology he had been unlucky enough to have heard Bulma been referred to.   
  
It embarrassed Kakkarot to no end, to have to even think of Bulma in that way, but he had to say it nonetheless.  
  
"Bed...warmer?" Radditz asked confused, watching as his younger brother turned several shades of red.  
  
Upon realizing that his brother was trying to politely imply a degrading thing, that he'd rather not define, Radditz quickly found his heart falling to the bottom of his stomach, feeling as if he wanted to be physically sick.  
  
The mental images involving Bulma, that were coming to Radditz's mind, were lewd, crude, and not all together ways that he liked to think of Bulma in.   
  
Radditz suddenly left rather abruptly with the excuse of needing a glass of water, no sounds of water running could be heard, but Kakkarot did hear the sound of Radditz putting his fist through a wall....  
  
Kakkarot thought Radditz took the news rather well.  
  
It took Radditz a good 15 minutes before he could come back into the room and NOT look like he had just blown out one of their apartment walls,  
  
but even if Kakkarot hadn't seen it, he was pretty sure it did happen.  
  
"Radditz...you know that's why Vegeta sent her away, don't you?" Kakkarot asked from his place on the couch, watching as Radditz leant on the nearest wall, he was about to retort, but Kakkarot wasn't finished.  
  
"He'd never even tell her about being his 'bed warmer', because we all know she'd would accept in an instant, IF it meant she could stay with him...Vegeta has more respect for her than that."   
  
Kakkarot stated sadly, realizing just to what lengths Bulma would go to stay with her childhood friend, and while Radditz didn't like it, he couldn't deny that he knew it too.  
  
"Kakkarot..." Radditz started, raising his eyebrow suspiciously, wondering just how his little brother came across such information.  
  
Although, in serious matter such as this, Kakkarot became somewhat more intelligent, it wasn't as if he would have come up with this conclusion on his own accord.  
  
Pity.  
  
  
  
Leaning back on the couch, Kakkarot closed his eyes, his lips twitched, slowly the ends curled into a smile.   
  
"Let's just say...we underestimated Bulma's charm..." was all he replied mysteriously.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile...  
  
King Vegeta closed the large book in his lap, and stroked his beard thoughtfully, a smirk adorning his face; it had been a good idea to tell Kakkarot everything.  
  
While King Vegeta couldn't do anything to help Bulma that he knew of, not without compromising Bulma's innocence, or her integrity, but by having Bulma's friends involved, they would most likely find a way to help, and as long as she was safe and warm, which Kakkarot had assured him of, then it was all that he could hope for.   
  
But he just hoped, Bulma would not waste away before things were sorted out.  
  
The most tortuous way for a human being to die was from a broken heart.  
  
***  
  
Bulma did not know how long she had been awake for, then again...Bulma didn't even realize she was awake.  
  
All she was consciously aware of was this pain deep inside, it felt as if she was being swallowed up by darkness, unable to breath, and unable to do anything to stop it.  
  
And that's how she sat, in a state of unresponsiveness to everything around her, her eyes blankly staring at the wall ahead of her, not even seeing the white barrier that was the wall, in front of her.  
  
In the back of her mind, she could hear a ticking sound, but paid no attention to it, it was just Radditz's cloak.   
  
She didn't even notice as Radditz came in and informed her of a meal, and some water, bending down at her bedside, he placed the tray on her lap.  
  
She looked up at him, not even really acknowledging his presence, just staring blankly at him, with no recognition of him what-so-ever, in a way that nearly broke Radditz into a round of sobs.  
  
Instead he made a gulping sound as he tried to swallow the tears, and placed one of his hands over Bulma's hands, that were placed absently on her lap.  
  
She watched as he then, lifted his other hand and pushed away stray locks falling down into her face, she looked up at him curiously, her expression, as if even though she was looking right at him, she was looking through him, rather than seeing his face.  
  
Realizing she wasn't 'here with him', Radditz stroked her face a couple of times, and proceeded to whisper reassuring words to her, none of which she heard but she didn't need to hear them. In the end, it was probably more for Radditz's benefit than her own.  
  
"It's going to be okay..." Was the gist of what Radditz said to Bulma as he spoke, Bulma, had she known what he said, might have smiled, not that it was likely.  
  
After a while, Radditz reluctantly left Bulma, not wanting to stay with her any longer, yet not being able to bare the thought that Bulma might feel alone while she was going through this.  
  
Radditz in the end decided, maybe he should leave. Bulma seemed to be not noticing anything he did, so, maybe she just needed more time alone with her thoughts, and to adjust to her current predicament.  
  
But that didn't mean that Radditz wasn't going to send Kakkarot to check up on her in a little while, but Radditz closed the door regardless, leaving Bulma to sit alone in the dark, something she seemed to be quite capable of doing.  
  
Caring the tray of the now cold, still untouched food, Radditz returned to the sitting room where his brother was still recovering from all this stress, that he was un-used to dealing with.  
  
When Kakkarot looked up at his brother when he entered the room, the only thing that was different about Radditz now, than before he went to tend to Bulma, was the lack of the glass of water on the tray, and Radditz seemed less hopeful.  
  
Radditz looked up from the tray was carrying, and stopped in the doorway to look at his brother, who waiting for any sign of how it might of went, and apparently knew.  
  
"She still hasn't noticed me..." Radditz explained before taking the tray into the kitchen, and just leaving the tray on the bench top, not bothering to do any more, and came back into the living room, sitting on the couch, which now suddenly seemed so very large, and spacious without Bulma on it.  
  
It also seemed, empty.  
  
"Bulma will be okay...you know that right?" Kakkarot asked, not looking at his brother as he said so, because, although he seemed to be asking Radditz these things, the truth was, he was asking for conformation, of what he was praying for.   
  
Radditz seemed to sense, this, and although, he had no more of a clue than Kakkarot did about Bulma's condition, Radditz still nodded absently and muttered a "Yeah" quietly and sat down on the floor, no longer feeling the strength to go on.  
  
Kakkarot took his brother's word for it, and seemed to noticeably ease in his chair, looking as if some of the weight on his shoulders had been shared, and lightened all at the same time.  
  
"Radditz?" Kakkarot asked after a moment of staring at the ceiling wall, the plain white hypnotizing him into a state of calm and collection, and Radditz had soon followed suit, both feeling better about everything, just by staring at a plain white wall.  
  
"Yeah Kakkarot?" Radditz asked quietly, and had Kakkarot not been listening for Radditz to speak, he might have not heard him at all.  
  
Kakkarot paused thoughtfully, as if making a hard decision, staring up and what seemed to be through the wall, Radditz was doing a similar action, only from his place on the floor.   
  
If anyone had walked in on this moment, they might look up and asked the two boys what they were looking at.  
  
They seemed similar to Bulma's state, only, they didn't have that blank look in their eyes, they were fully focused, even if they did look as if they were daydreaming.  
  
Kakkarot's brow furrowed as he proceeded to speak "I think...I think Bulma should stay with us until this thing with Vegeta is resolved..."  
  
saying what both him and Radditz had been thinking, but it was an unspoken thing that she would stay, but Kakkarot just felt the need to mention it so if anything ever came up, he and Radditz would have already discussed it, and by speaking, he avoided the eerie quiet that had engulfed the room.  
  
Besides, even if Bulma would not like to think about her problems, she might like to know that she had a place to stay.  
  
Radditz swiveled his head towards his brother, and gave him a stern look that came with being the older brother.  
  
"She can have my room." was all that Radditz said, and although it was obvious to both men that Kakkarot would have given up his room in an instant for Bulma, they also both knew that Radditz would not allow anyone but him to sacrifice their room for her.  
  
Kakkarot nodded his head in acceptance, for nothing more was needed to be said. Anything else that could've been said would be unnecessary.   
  
"Kakkarot...would you mind checking on Bulma?" Radditz asked tentively, trying to hide the fear in his voice.  
  
Kakkarot, pretending to not hear the quiver in his brothers voice, stood up slowly, trying to see if his legs would hold his weight before trying to take even one step forward, and thankfully, they held all that saiyayjin muscle with little more than a groan from Kakkarot himself.   
  
So with no other words spoken, Kakkarot left to check on Bulma, not sure if he was quite sure whether he was ready to see Bulma in the way his brother had described her condition as; numb, vacant, blank, void.  
  
And other words that Kakkarot didn't even understand, but he was positive they meant no good.  
  
But as he got closer to the end of the hall, where two door ways were located, one on each opposing wall, Kakkarot felt a lot like the little boy he had once been, and not like the man his brother was often telling him he now supposedly was.  
  
Grabbing hold of the round silver handle, and turning it slowly to be as quiet as he could, Kakkarot opened the door, as if opening it slower would somehow magically lessen the magnitude of the sight inside, of which it did not.  
  
For when Kakkarot opened the door, he saw the sight that had broken his strong brother to tears, the same man who had not cried when Bulma was running away.  
  
Kakkarot, could feel unwelcome tears sting his eyes, although, not blurring his vision enough to not see the scene before him, as painful as it was to see.  
  
Bulma was sitting up in bed, in her lap sat her shackles which she stared blankly at, her other hand touching her arm where her slave identification number was printed into her skin, in black, bold, numbers.  
  
  
  
Kakkarot pushed the door further open, letting the light shine onto Bulma's face.  
  
As the artificial light shone onto her face, Kakkarot noticed what looked liked pools of wet diamonds in her eyes, falling onto her lap, every few seconds.   
  
After several minutes of frozen nothingness passed by, Bulma turned to Kakkarot, looking at him with the same blank look.  
  
Slowly, Bulma raised her hand to her cheek, feeling the cool, wetness, upon the fingertips, then as if only just waking up,   
  
Bulma looked at the saiyajin in the doorway, seemingly confused.  
  
"Kakkarot?"   
  
To Be Continued...  
  
***  
  
Thanks to everyone, but I'm not going name you all right now - headache - the less typing the better.  
  
But I will mention two recommendations, of which I feel I must mention..  
  
Android 18 - Possession, is currently my favorite of her works - though she has never written anything I didn't like.  
  
She, unlike most writers has yet to write ANYTHING that needs smut, excessive violence or language just to gain the attention and of the readers,   
  
her work speaks for itself , I believe, if there is one writer who really writes the basis for B/V fic standards, it's her.  
  
Camaro - Psh, what kind of B/V fic fan would I be if I didn't make mention of her?  
  
Camaro tends to take a darker, personal take to B/V fiction, though, for me, some of the controversial subjects, leave something to be desired...  
  
I believe Camaro's work, like Camaro herself, is a desired taste, you either love it, or hate it the minute you get involved, I insist you read it, and decide for yourself.  
  
Till next time, preferably being only next week,  
  
Tenshi Kanashii. 


	3. As time passes by

I'm sorry this took so long to get out - lots of person reasons, none of which I'm about to try and explain or justify.  
  
But I'd like to thank all my reviewers, and give special thanks to: Android 18, good music, summer rain, and water.  
  
(Please note, only the former is an actual person.the rest is just things I like.)  
  
Okay - I know that sounded somewhat condescending, but I'm in a bad mood, and the fact is, I know people that would have actually made that mistake. -_-'  
  
Also, once again big thanks to my beta: m.z*d.e.e  
  
*** Chapter three: As time passes by  
  
It is as time passes by, that we have the chance to let go. It may take a while, but eventually, if we're strong, we'll find resolution; within ourselves, and within our life.  
  
5 years later....  
  
A figure slipped out from underneath the space ship, sighing in exhaustion, they proceeded to stand, spanner in one had, a dirty rag in another. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Bulma left black, oil smudges from where she dragged her dirty hand across her pale skin.  
  
This simple action, would assure the woman would require a long bath, in which she would later spend a good hour scrubbing effortlessly trying to remove what must have appeared to be, the umpteenth accidental grease mark, most of which already had stained the better half of her clothes.  
  
It would be yet another long night spent on trying, emphasis on the word trying, to clean her only set of clothes, which included: A plain white sing let top, pulled tightly in every possible way, as it stretched across the swell of her chest, that had grown even more in recent years. Wrapped securely around her waist was a man's long sleeved flannelette shirt. A self-made pair of hand-made tight, navy blue pants, that disappeared from the knees down, under black army boots, with miss-matched laces; one white, the other hot pink.  
  
One with taste might think it was wise to burn such an outfit, but considering the circumstances, that was not likely to happen anytime soon for it was the only clothes she had, and believe it or not, she was very proud to say she had paid for the outfit herself.  
  
She had saved for months to, one by one, purchase each part of her outfit from an intergalactic traveling salesmen, who assured her this was a popular 'earthling' outfit.  
  
Shoving the spanner into the afore mentioned pant's pocket, she used the rag to wipe her hands clean as she strode towards the other side of the room and bent down over the tool box, tossed the rag inside. She then proceeded to retrieve the other tools that lay scattered, completely disregarded around the tool box, and put them back in the tool box, quickly but carefully.  
  
Tools on this planet were valuable. Bulma had been saving for a set of second hand tools since the age of six, and now that she finally owned a set, she took no chance in leaving them in the docking bay overnight.  
  
Though she liked to think, through years of trust and understanding, that she was good friends with all of inhabitants of the palace. she was not so naive to believe that she was friends with EVERYONE, nor that many saiyajins struggling to feed their family, wouldn't be more than happy to steal her tools to sell at the first chance they got.  
  
Closing the rusty, but reliable tool box, the figure stood up, taking the tool boxes handle in their left hand, and with a flick of the light switch as she past, left.  
  
Walking down the hall, many a man smiled casually at the woman, who had the beauty and charisma of a woman, but the intelligence of a man. She nodded and smiled tiredly in recognition, even said a greeting or two as she passed.  
  
She was quite a site to be held, on first glance she appeared to be a man, but on a second glance, it was obvious from her feminine face, to her womanly curves, she was all woman, even if those who knew her, could insist she had the temper, and arrogance of a man.  
  
Possibly from all those years spent in Vegeta's company.  
  
Huffing as she continued walking, swearing that the journey seemed to take longer on the days when she had been working hardest. She ran a hand through her hair, stopping at the base of her neck where the hair stopped short.  
  
It had long since passed, the morning she'd gone into kitchen, hastily cropping her beautiful locks with a pair of scissors, which fell to the floor in clomps. I failed to mention that was the morning that everything had changed, Bulma, as I'm sure you already guessed, had taken the liberty to overcome her depression.  
  
Feeling that if she was going to survive, she had to change.  
  
And she did just that.  
  
Nothing physiologically, but she did crop her hair, followed shortly by her new clothes, either bought at great commercial expense, or hand-made at the expense of many pin pricks to the girl, and finally, she got her job.  
  
Bulma may have no longer been able to talk to the king as if he was the father she was never able to have, but that never ceased her loyalty to him, and for that, she was rewarded.  
  
He gave her the job of a head mechanic, in the royal docking bay, of which she was very proud, spending long hours working, not to mention, she was always on 24 hour call.  
  
If she had been well known before, famous by association being Vegeta's beautiful pet, that was nothing compared to now. She had even made a few female friends, which had shocked everyone, considering the previous years of hatred towards her, from female saiyajins.  
  
Maybe it had been the rumor that had spread quickly that Bulma had moved in with Radditz and Kakkarot, that had ceased the animosity from many, who thought she was just trying to charm her way into power. Be that as it may, a lot of the hostility was gone, and Bulma, despite the lack of Vegeta's presence, was, more or less, happy.  
  
Opening the front door, immediately turning around to close the door behind her, Bulma looked upon the familiar sight before her. It was the same one that she returned to most nights, depending if she worked a late shift that night or not. The glow from the TV illuminated the figure before it, Kakkarot sprawled out on the lounge, eating his meal with great enthusiasm, as if this, like every meal before it, was his last, at the same time, half-hearted watching some action movie.  
  
She unceremoniously placed her toolbox by the door, just as Kakkarot looked up, only just noticing her arrival. He gulped the remaining mouthful down, before attempting to speak to Bulma, learning from many years of lectures from Bulma, that it's not wise to speak with your mouth full.  
  
"Hey Bulma" Kakkarot greeted automatically, turning his head on an angle so he could look at her as he spoke, it was the usual method of greeting when it was just the two of them.  
  
Tonight was another one of those nights, in which every-so-often Radditz was required to work a late shift, and so, instead of walking in to find Kakkarot sitting on the floor eating enthusiastically, and Radditz sprawled out on the couch, completely exhausted.  
  
Although, as you know, her eyes met another site, one she was getting more and more familiar with as the days went by; Kakkarot, enjoying the tranquility of not having to fight for the hierarchy of the lounge room.  
  
Bulma loved to see him so content, although, she knew such freedom would not be relished quite the same if this was an every day occurrence for the sentimental saiyajin would miss his almost violent, but all in the spirit of fun, bonding time spent with his brother.  
  
Bulma smiled warmly at him, like she had a thousand times before, but he never got tired of seeing it, and she never got tired to doing it. "So, how was your day Bulma?" Kakkarot, like he always did in the absence of Radditz, asked partly because it was polite, and partly as he really wanted to know.  
  
That was one of Bulma's favorite things about Kakkarot, his endlessly child- like curiosity. Night after night he asked, if Radditz was not there to, and night after night, she'd answer the same thing, but yet he hung onto her every word as if she was saying it for the first time.  
  
"It was..." she walked across the room, standing behind the couch, she paused, carefully choosing how to answer that without disencouraging his interest, nor dragging it out too long so she could make it down to the laundry before it got much later, it already being 9 or so at night.  
  
"Long" was the word she settled on, with a wry smile.  
  
Kakkarot looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding his head in agreement, "yeah...me too" and resumed eating, at which Bulma continued to her down the hall, and to her room.  
  
Or should I say, Radditz's old room?  
  
Yes, she stayed for one night, and never left. It had originally been Radditz, simple and plain room, but slowly, it transformed into Bulma's room; colorful and unique.  
  
Radditz things were moved into Kakkarot's room, which they now shared, and Bulma now had, something Bardock insisted every young woman needed; privacy.  
  
One handedly pushing open the door, Bulma walked inside.  
  
It had a strange decor; it had a great similitude to that of what a mildly disturbed child might have, or maybe a nest of an animal; A collection of random items, thrown together at a futile try creates a personal touch.  
  
The walls were covered in photographs and any other objects she could pin up, where Radditz's bed once was, sat a very...different re-creation of her old bed with Vegeta.  
  
A large selection of pillows, of all different shapes, sizes and colours, not one of them even remotely similar, gathered in a pile on the floor and where Radditz's chest of drawers once sat, now was replaced by Bulma's shoe box, unable to hold all her possessions in, the rest sat in a pile in the corner of the room.  
  
It may have been strange, but it was hers to call her own, and for that, she was appreciative.  
  
Not even bothering to close the door, due to lack of time, Bulma began to strip her clothing, firstly taking off her boots, and throwing them to the ground with little care, the distinctive thud was heard echoing down the hall.  
  
As if having an after thought about changing, Bulma not stopping as she hurried to undress, called out "Hey...Kakkarot?" All she received was a muffled gulp, followed shortly but what she assumed was a reply.  
  
"Can I borrow a shirt?" she pleaded as she took off the last item of clothing, minus her underwear, which were both one size, too small. Hearing no rush of footsteps running down the hall, immediately after that statement, she was positive Radditz was still yet to arrive home, not that she expected him back before she had returned from laundry.  
  
"Mmmph-sure" Kakkarot answered without hesitation, or with any attempt to move, only calling out "top drawer" to aide her. Bulma would have chuckled if she hadn't enjoyed the same situation most nights, especially when she was not in a hurry.  
  
Bulma usually got off work a good 20 minutes earlier, but she had an 'emergency' which, in reality, referred to a guy who was willing to fork cash if she fix his pod within 30 minutes...and conveniently look over the fact it was stolen.  
  
Padding across the hall to Kakkarot's and Radditz's room, a strange combination of Radditz old room, and the room Kakkarot's always had. It was always easy to tell who side was who's, despite the identical furniture and manchester, because Kakkarot tended to have the remains of meals sitting, misplaced on his side.  
  
When Bulma had originally moved in, Radditz had insisted they cleaned under his bed - they found a sandwich that was purple. And yes...even on planet Vegeta, it wasn't meant to be that colour.  
  
But, take away the fact it smelt, the room was fine to spend time in, and for the first year, Bulma spent a lot of time in there. Bulma did not like to openly admit it, but for the first year, she couldn't get used to the lack of Vegeta's presence.  
  
Although Kakkarot and Radditz, were both willing substitutes, on the cold nights when Bulma stumbled across the hall, and into their beds.  
  
Radditz often would stay awake the entire night looking upon the young woman sleeping on his chest, just thinking how lucky he was, how unfortunate Vegeta was, and how long would 'this' last?  
  
But, as all things must, such a routine eventually came to an end; Bulma had long since forgone the need for physical contact while sleeping. She missed it, with every fiber of her being, but she could go through the night without pinning for it.  
  
Bulma smiled in reminiscence as she quickly retrieved a plain white t-shirt from the drawer, and quickly began buttoning it up, from bottom to top, leaving one or two undone near the collar.  
  
"Thanks" she called as she did up the last of the buttons she wanted fastened, and trotted into her room, wrapping one arm around an old cane- like basket, she proceeded to pick up her clothes and place them into the basket.  
  
Sighing, Bulma walked back into the lounge room, Kakkarot was just finishing off the last remains of his meal, trying to eat every single grain of rice in the bowl. Leaning on the lounge, propping the basket on her hip, Bulma inquired the usual "Do you, or Radditz need any washing done?"  
  
That appeared to be what he was waiting for.  
  
"YEAH, JUST GIVE ME" he swallowed "A SECOND!" Kakkarot called dropping his bowl to the floor, and with an outstretched hand, and a swing of the legs, hopped over the back of the couch, allow mere inches between him and Bulma as he did so.  
  
Bulma muttered something distinctively Japanese under her breath as Kakkarot came running back into the room with a pile that was so big that it blocked Kakkarot's vision, which may have explained why he ran straight into a wall...  
  
"Kakkarot" Bulma called kindly like a mother to klutzy child, bending down next to Kakkarot, and began to pick up certain articles of clothing and put them in the basket, smiling, albeit somewhat tiredly at the dazed look on Kakkarot' face.  
  
"How about.I just take the clothes you need washed for tomorrow?" she suggested, still continuing to pick more items of clothing off him. Kakkarot shot her a dazzling smile.  
  
"Great idea Bulma!" he praised, shooting up into a sitting position, and rummaged through the clothes, looking for what he knew was necessary to be cleaned. Bulma bit her lip as she tried to hid a smile, presenting a pair of underwear to Kakkarot, who blushed madly, and snatched them away from Bulma, stuffing them into the basket under some other clothes.  
  
"erm-yeah-well-thanks" he muttered quickly, turning bright red, which only caused Bulma to laugh at him, as she finished retrieving one or two more articles of clothing, before she stood up.  
  
"That should be enough..." she declared taking an estimating guess at her load, and then, taking a surveying look at the clothes still on the ground she continued "and makes sure this is all gone before Radditz get's home"  
  
Kakkarot nodded though rather reluctantly, Bulma knew he'd rather the dirty laundry meld into the floor before he'd actually have to pick it up, but he agreed anyway. He knew it was not wise to mess with Bulma, and especially not when she was this tired.  
  
"Okay...I'll see you tomorrow night Kakkarot" she told him, bending down and kissing his forehead, and exhaustedly made her way towards the door, waiting till Kakkarot said "Night" and then she left, feeling content.  
  
She knew by the time she got home, despite Kakkarot's protests, Radditz would have him shipped off to bed, too tired to deal with Kakkarot that late at night, and by the time Kakkarot got up in the morning, Bulma would be gone to work already.  
  
Pushing onwards, Bulma turned to proceed down the left hall, where she would find the laundry. One might think, a young woman hurrying down the hall to do her laundry and wearing nothing but a man's white shirt, which only fell to mid thigh, would give a bad impression on her character, or at least start some lewd rumors.  
  
But infact, having a public laundry often resulted in the other users coming upon some very strange, humorous or just plain disturbing sites.  
  
So the other working class saiyajins that, like Bulma, came night after night to use the facilities, had quickly become very open minded about whatever they saw.  
  
Bulma was never in more than her underwear and a borrowed t-shirt, some unfaithful saiyajins were never in more than a towel as they rushed to clean their clothes before their significant others got home from work, and then...there was that time that Nappa had shown up in nothing at all.  
  
Although, that's an entirely different story.  
  
But, it was why Bulma would never be able to look at Nappa without thinking of that incident, and why, at one point, Bulma had been seeing a saiyajin version of a therapist.  
  
"Going to do your laundry?" Brolly asked, appearing suddenly, breaking Bulma out of her reverie, with his teasing tone. Like always, the young man appeared out of seemingly nowhere, falling instep with her.  
  
Brolly, who, due to the fact his parents where nobles, didn't have to work for a living, so he could parade around as he pleased. Although what he did other than allowing himself to have these interesting moments with her, Bulma would never know.  
  
He was like an imaginary friend, showing up all the time, as if he had nothing better to do, with the most interesting comments, and conversations, none of which you really wanted to hear.  
  
But, she put up with him, because ever since she had to leave Vegeta, Brolly had deemed that she deserved his mature, un-suggestive respect. And so, she returned that respect, teasing as it was.  
  
"Yes" she said, exhaling deeply, turning to look at Brolly as she walked, laughing she commented on a similarity  
  
"I think, in another life, I must have been a mother..." she told him thoughtfully, seeing his look of shock, she continued "possibly...Kakkarot's."  
  
Utterly relieved that this was not just some cleverly hidden attempt to suggest she was pregnant, Brolly relaxed. Although he still had a strong attraction to Bulma, he had taken her under his wing, like a little sister, watching out for her, in a way that no one else seemed to be able to do with their busy lifestyles, in addition to other personal complications and conflictions.  
  
"I see...obviously, these aren't yours" he said with a smirk, holding up a pair of white jockey underwear between his forefinger and thumb, with obvious distaste. The mere sight of Bulma preparing to wash underwear - this particular time, the food stain made it obvious who's it was - always made Brolly suspicious.  
  
Brolly would often sneak glances at the laundry, and if possibly casually pick up a piece of it, being tactful about checking to see if Bulma had laundry of any unknown man.  
  
But once again, like always - minus that one misunderstanding involving a laundry mix up - she only had Kakkarot's, Radditz's and her own.  
  
Dropping the underwear back onto the pile, Brolly shook his hand, hoping to get rid of the smell from his skin with no such luck I'm afraid.  
  
"No...but this is his shirt" Bulma informed Brolly, knowing he knew whom she was referring to, using her free hand to tug on the collar of the shirt.  
  
"Really? How very interesting" Brolly said, clearly mocking her, knowing her well enough to be assured that while, to anyone else, this situation may look compromising, with Kakkarot involved, it was totally innocent. Bulma huffed, taking offence in his tone; she would have crossed her arms, had they not been preoccupied with holding the basket up.  
  
Stopping, she rounded on Brolly, and rather briskly told him "Brolly, your an insufferable idiot." before, head held high, she sauntered down the hall.  
  
Brolly took a few seconds to process what had just been said, his faced looked thoughtful, but slightly puzzled at the same time. When he finally processed what had been said, he immediately brightened, turning to look at Bulma who was walking down the hall unperturbed.  
  
"BUT I'M AN ATTRACTIVE IDOIT...AREN'T I?" He yelled after her, in a way that Bulma could not quite be sure if he was serious or not, but being used to these kind of rants from her male friends, she walked on regardless as if she hadn't heard him.  
  
Brolly smiled proudly after her, finding himself unable to feel less than proud with the young woman.  
  
But, unfortunately, as quickly as it came, Brolly's smile suddenly faded, a strange feeling overcoming him. For Brolly, the feeling was indescribable, but if he was even to begin to try, he might have described it like; an effervesce.  
  
The air seemed to crackle, as the hint of suppressed power vibrated through the air, like a silent hum. Brolly could feel the power, like he could feel his blood flowing through his veins.  
  
Hesitantly, he turned, he could see nothing but shadows, but he knew who was standing in them.  
  
Brolly stared at a flicker, as a beam of light reflected off the stranger's eyes, the person suddenly frowned, backing away, they disappeared into the shadows, as if they'd never been there to begin with...  
  
'He', had been watching her...again.  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
***  
  
Rivers: A short one-shot about B/V, after Vegeta has gone into space.  
Written by Android 18 - I'm a sucker for well written one shots.  
  
I haven't had time much as of late, since - yes - I am now an art student. I didn't have the right qualifications, and was a few months under the minimum age. but *smirks* they made an exception for me and accepted me into the Fine Arts Diploma course.(Apparently I'm skilled and have potential).  
  
So with TAFE, and travel and everything, I'll only have like 2 hours free time to myself a day.but I should have the weekends to write, so I'll try and update constantly now.  
  
But a big thanks to "The flying Pal" who e-mailed me and asked me if I was dead or if I planned to update soon.yes I strangely found that supportive, and flattering.  
  
Yes, I know I'm odd.  
  
Faithfully, Tenshi Kanashii. 


	4. Alone

I'm trying to continue with my plan to update atleast once a week – so I though it'd be my Valentine's Day gift to all of you - to update on time...  
  
Although, it's not Fluffy...anything but fluffy...  
  
Thanks to everyone who's be reviewing regularly – on that note - I'd really appreciate it, if people are reading, they actually review. Even if it's to say "Meh, didn't like that scene" or "awaiting mindless fluff..." or if you just want to ask questions about things you don't understand or uncertain about – I'll reply either by e-mail, unless I receive several of the same question, then I'll just write a F.A.Q section at the end of each chapter.  
  
Though, yet again, thanks, and many glomps to my beta: m.z*d.e.e  
  
*** Chapter four: Alone  
  
Sometimes, when we become accustomed to something, or someone, we find ourselves unable to live without them. So, we try to adjust the best we can...  
  
He'd been watching her again.  
  
In the far recesses of his mind, he knew that he had been staring at her, he had no idea for how long, nor did he care, as long as he could stare for just a little while longer.  
  
But for now, he'd have to settle for the few moments he had watched her for, from the darkened shadows of badly lit halls, the darkness only equal to that of his state of mind.  
  
The moment Bulma had been forcefully removed from his life Vegeta had taken on a whole new depth of angst to his already complex mind. He had a deadly silence about him, scaring everyone to a whole new level, and that was before he even spoke, not that he ever spoke, and if he did, that was even more frightening than his silence, if only slightly more so.  
  
But then again, he might scare more people if they became aware of the fact he chose to spend his days "stalking" Bulma as Brolly liked to put it mildly. Vegeta did not like to think of it as 'stalking', not that he could actually deny it either...but Vegeta rather liked to think of it as 'looking out for her'.  
  
Vegeta has found out if he wasn't watching Bulma, he was drinking...but that's a story for another time.  
  
For now, Vegeta was making his way down the poorly lit corridor, his face half in shadow, half in light as he thoughtfully made his way to his room, his favourite place in the entire castle when he wasn't casually stalking his best friend.  
  
He preferred to avoid any contact with everyone, choosing to remain in the confines of his memories, that he called his room, alone.  
  
Kakkarot was often kindly reminding Vegeta that maybe he was dwelling on Bulma too long... Vegeta always responded to this statement with a withering look that promptly shut Kakkarot up.  
  
Vegeta had never been too fond of Kakkarot to begin with. They had been 'friends' in the simplest form of the term, but through everything, Kakkarot had been what, Vegeta assumed could be referred to as, a good friend.  
  
And so finally making his way out of the commoner's hallway, and back into the regular hallway leading to his room, Vegeta not surprised to see a figure leaning against the wood of his door, although, it was not Kakkarot, but the young man who visited almost every other night.  
  
No matter how many times Vegeta told the man not to come back again, the young man came back again, and again. For what reason, neither man seemed to be quite sure.  
  
I guess, other than the obvious, it was the one thing they had in common, Bulma.  
  
So, the young man lied to those he cared about, and returned most nights. He would sit in Vegeta's company, sometimes, neither said anything for hours on end, sometimes one, or both of them talked, sometimes one cried... and sometimes they found the other one half dead.  
  
It was always a traumatic experience for both of them, each time they departed, something was gained, and something was lost.  
  
This time would not be any different, Vegeta would get angry, resenting the young man in his company, for reasons he refused to acknowledge himself, soon followed by allowing him in anyway. Time would pass by quickly, or not quick enough, and then the young man would leave, returning home, lying through his teeth about having to work late.  
  
As I said, tonight would be no different, Vegeta sneered, and stepping up to the man who had been leaning casually on the door staring at the ground,  
  
Before he looked up, acknowledging Vegeta with a simple nod of the head.  
  
A nod being little to acknowledge such an old friend, or, maybe the word rival would better suffice considering their history together, but, truthfully he was one of Vegeta's closest friends, and not to mention faithful followers.  
  
Whether or not, Radditz showed it.  
  
"Vegeta" Radditz greeted, giving Vegeta a criticizing look as if knowing exactly where Vegeta had been, and not liking it one bit. Radditz annoyed Vegeta that way, but yet, Vegeta opened the door, leaving it open so Radditz could follow him anyway.  
  
Radditz did as expected, unfolded his arms, and pushed himself off the wall, following Vegeta into the room, closing the door behind himself. He looked around the room, as if praying that it was in a better state then the other night, but it wasn't.  
  
'Bulma's pillows' were scattered, from where they had been used as a bed, even after Bulma's departure, some even seemed to have the stuffing ripped out of them, Radditz only able to guess that Vegeta had been having nightmares again.  
  
Vegeta's bed was neatly made, no sign that anyone had slept under the covers at all, but the bed did show signs of being slept on, the covers creased only slightly from the weight of someone laying on top of the covers, a disarray of bottles of all shapes and size were scatted over it. Someone had been drinking a considerable amount of liquor since Radditz last visit.  
  
The alcohol content alone probably could have killed him.  
  
That may have explained why the curtains were drawn closed, to help ease the pain of hangovers.  
  
All this information appeared to concern Radditz, although it was skillfully masked under a scornful frown of indifference.  
  
Turning to Vegeta with narrowed eyes, Radditz watched as Vegeta took a seat on his bed, sitting with his legs pulled up against his chest, one arm wrapped around his legs, while his other hand reached mindlessly for a bottle, one with some alcohol remaining in it. Grabbing a clear bottle, with a little bit of red liquid residing in the bottom, Vegeta one handedly held it up, a silent offering to Radditz to have a drink.  
  
Radditz scowled, growling slightly, disgusted in Vegeta, and his invitation.  
  
Vegeta shrugged, bringing the clear bottle to his lips, drinking it all in one long swig. Gulping it down, Vegeta brought the bottle away from his lips, licking them thoughtfully, before trying to take another sip, but nothing came.  
  
Confusedly, Vegeta withdrew the bottle, shaking it, before stopping suddenly, squinting carefully; he noticed the contents of the bottle were gone. Sighing over dramatically, Vegeta let the bottle fall from his grasp, bouncing on the covers of his bed, rolling across the soft material.  
  
"What do you want you idiot?" Vegeta slurred slightly, partly due to the alcohol recently added to his system, and partly due to a lack of caring on his own behalf. And although, deep down, Vegeta knew what Radditz wanted, he had asked anyway.  
  
Vegeta knew Radditz wanted a friend, and despite the fact they hated each other, Bulma held them together. She had no clue what so ever that they met when Radditz was supposedly working, but Vegeta and Radditz needed someone, someone who could tell them the things that no one else could.  
  
No one else could tell them, about the one thing that mattered most to them...Bulma.  
  
It seemed everything came down to her, one way or another.  
  
But that was just the way they liked it.  
  
"Nothing from you." Was Radditz's sharp reply, glaring at Vegeta hatefully.  
  
Radditz had wanted to reply 'Bulma', but had thought better than to actually say it, an intoxicated Vegeta was sometimes more dangerous than a sober one. Vegeta's eyes became downcast, staring at the subtle creases in the soft satin sheets, he felt sick.  
  
Sick and alone.  
  
That was probably the worst combination. When Vegeta got sick, he wanted Bulma, now more than ever, to lie by his side, just lay there, doing nothing, just being there.  
  
That was all he ever really wanted, but simply couldn't have.  
  
Vegeta gently reclined backwards, lying down amongst the bottles, doing nothing other than staring at the ceiling and thinking. Radditz watched Vegeta, who seemed to be thinking, that or just staring mindlessly at the ceiling.  
  
No one moved, as was not that uncommon during these rendezvous between the two. Radditz had opened his mouth once or twice, but before he said anything, he would decide against it, and would settle for running a hand through his hair, that and take a quick count of how many bottles were actually lying empty on the bed along side Vegeta.  
  
It was in the middle of counting the 13 miscellaneous alcohol, for the 4th time, that Vegeta finally decided to speak.  
  
He didn't move from his position, but instead continued to stare at the same spot he'd been staring at for the last little while. His eyes staring half-closed, as he focused on the ceiling above, not really having the strength or will to even look at Radditz, he stayed still.  
  
Although it could have just been his imagination, but to Radditz, Vegeta's voice seemed tired, and subdued, and maybe even, soft.  
  
"Leave me alone, Radditz" Vegeta commanded lightly, the slur no longer evident, but the sound of Vegeta swallowing something deep in the back of his throat sounded surprisingly like a suppressed slur.  
  
Radditz stared at Vegeta hard, at this moment all he could feel for his future ruler was one thing; pity. Pushing himself off the floor, standing up rather suddenly, a motion unseen by Vegeta, Radditz looked down on Vegeta, his expression a combination of pity and...fear, fear of what Vegeta had become.  
  
Shoving his hand into his pocket, Radditz hesitantly pulled a photo out, staring at it, he took in every detail of it, trying to take it into memory. Radditz habitually ran his tongue over his teeth, distractedly twirling the photo between two fingers; obviously he was not comfortable with situations such as this. So he was reluctant to step towards Vegeta, and hand him the photo like he had been intending to.  
  
Stepping forward, and offering the photo to Vegeta, Vegeta looked at the small square card in Radditz's hand, and gingerly excepted it. Only his arm moved, extending to take the photo, and then retracted pulling it close to his face, merely inches from touching his nose, Vegeta squinted slightly staring at the photo unsurely, trying to see the picture through the blur caused by alcohol.  
  
Vegeta stared at the picture on his hands, instantly his eyes softened as he ran his fingers remisingly over the face in the picture. Bulma was wearing nothing but a long, plain, t-shirt being too large, yet too short at the same time and she made a rude gesture at whomever took the picture during her candidness...  
  
Vegeta thought she looked beautiful.  
  
Too caught up at staring at the face in the photo, Vegeta didn't notice as Radditz headed to the doorway, opened the wooden door, but keeping his hand firmly positioned on the door. He inclined his head over his shoulder, and just before he would slam the door upon his exit, he told Vegeta seriously  
  
"Maybe if you stopped drinking your life away, you'd realize your not alone Vegeta..."  
  
And as Vegeta ran his fingers over the face in the photo in hand, he realized, maybe Radditz was right for once.  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
***  
  
I have two art papers to finish, about what is "Art" and what is an "Artist" – and then I have other assignments and obligations, so if you'll excuse me, but before I go, I'll leave you with a recommendation of the fic -  
  
Kids Today, Adults Tomorrow – by BG: I may have had a falling out with this writer about unenclosed details, but that does not change my opinion of this particular work of hers, and that she is in fact a great writer.  
  
This, after Possession (which any of you who know me, knows that is my all time favorite fic), is my next favorite fic, though it's left uncompleted to my knowledge.  
  
It's a hilarious B/V fic of top quality, which is hard to find in a comedy fic – it's all about Bulma and Vegeta accidentally getting turned into children...among other things. But it tends to have a lot of one sided child Gohan/Bulma – but it's light- hearted and comedic, but just a warning.  
  
I recommend this for anyone who wants, some humor and fluff – perfect for Valentines day.  
  
Till next time, Tenshi Kanashii 


	5. Routines of Habit

One piece of advice –  
  
People may think it's strange to suddenly announce that "I have nice legs", they may agree with you...but they won't necessarily think your sane.  
  
...Well, that was random neh?  
  
Anyway, thanks to everyone who supported me, while I was going through the first half of my year as an art student...  
  
I'd list names, but that would be unfair, since I've forgotten half your names... I'm not entirely sure if that was supposed to make you all feel better or not.  
  
Anyway questions about my fic are welcomed via email, or through instant messengers, contact info available in my bio thingi...  
  
Now, to what you've all been waiting for, an update.  
  
[_screams of "FINALLY!" can be heard throughout ff.net..._]

* * *

Meanwhile...  
  
Bulma had finally arrived at the commoners' laundry.  
  
It was a door less room, which interior was not relatively that much smaller than the throne room, although it created the illusion of less space as most of the space was filled with saiyajin versions of washing machines, and drier, metal cubes that were had to distinguish one from another.  
  
They, along with some ropes used as washing lines and chairs for those waiting, helped the room to make it seem much smaller than it was.  
  
It was a basic system, of which was not all that dissimilar to the earth version of a laundry, so Bulma had been quick in picking up how to use it, having seen her earth mother doing the laundry everyday on earth.  
  
I guess that's why Bulma didn't make a big fuss about doing the laundry, because it made her feel more 'earthling', despite how she liked to be seen as a 'Saiyajin'. Not to mention the fact Radditz insisted that Bulma didn't pay rent...no matter how many times Bulma offered, or tried to conspiratorially give it to Kakkarot.  
  
So, Bulma would add laundry to her already heavy load, along with working full time, studying in secret, and all the other little things she did, that without, Radditz and Kakkarot probably wouldn't know what to do.  
  
They, wether that wanted to or not, and wether they knew it or not, had become dependent on Bulma.  
  
Radditz seemed to think of Bulma as the woman of the house, he often asked Bulma to do simple things that he found natural to say, like for her to 'wash my socks for tomorrow', 'next time you see father, ask him...' or 'Bulma, I feel so alone...could you stay with me tonight?'. The later being a innocent experience, where Bulma simply allowed Radditz to sleep with his head her lap, but it was just another one of those simple things, that if Bulma hadn't known any better, she would have thought Radditz believed they were married, or the saiyajin equivalent; 'mates'.  
  
Kakkarot seemed to think very similar. Kakkarot had always seen his brother like a father figure to him, and Bulma's permanent residence in house, only seemed to make him act like she was his mother, despite having a mother at home.  
  
Bulma stared down at the laundry in arms, only a few articles of the clothing was hers, she appeared to be doing this more for the guys benefit than her own.  
  
Maybe she was playing a role, and she just hadn't realised it.  
  
Bulma looked up, obviously still in deep thought, but the expression soon faded as she came to the welcoming sight of familiarity, it was more or less the same everyday around this time.  
  
An older, shapely woman in her mid forties, who looked worn with age, her long black hair greying, yelled at her three little sons, aging about 3,5, and 8, while in her arms she nursed a little baby girl, which she breast fed at certain intervals, the baby seemed to have pre-programmed itself to cry at. Bulma liked Nasu; she was like the mother figure Bulma never had on planet Vegeta, never having been that close to Bardoc's wife.  
  
Although she never quite managed to learn her children's names, except for the infant, considering Nasu had never called them by the names, but by rather inappropriate curse words, and Bulma was too sheepish to admit that she didn't know their names. And although she liked Nasu and her children, she was never too fond of her husband.  
  
He was a creepy, crabby man ten years senior to Nasu, who Bulma would never know what Nasu saw in him. His name was Kani, and not only did he not like Bulma, and believed that she was a harlot, sent to destroy the royal family from inside their bedrooms, but he also liked to occasionally (in fact whenever she passed by) pinch her behind.  
  
But other than that, he often did nothing, but sit and glare at her.  
  
So, Bulma made sure to quickly walk past him, making sure to avoid walking within his reaching distance, and to the nearest available washing machine. Tapping on it, once, then twice, the only sure way of making sure it was not in use, other than opening it. Bulma then opened it, just placing all the clothes in it, which were basically just underwear, singlets and what not.  
  
Closing the door to the machine, and quickly putting it on to start, she turned around, casually leaning on the machine as looked around the room once again.  
  
Kani was still glaring at Bulma while his wife continued to tend to their children, so Bulma immediately let her gaze wander some more, this time coming across another sight that was familiar, Sato and Shio.  
  
Sato, was a little saiyajin girl who seemed to find Bulma intriguing, having never met another alien before in her life, she often spent most of their encounters asking Bulma pointless and, many times, ridiculous questions such as 'Could she count?', and 'Did she pick her nose like everyone else?' and 'did they know about pink apples on her planet too?'...  
  
No, not even Bulma could make heads of tales of that one either.  
  
Everyone knows, apples are blue!  
  
Anyway, along with Sato, was her older brother Shio, who also found Bulma intriguing, often poking and prodding her, asking her pointless, and sometimes perverse questions, all of which she usually ignored, after slapping his hand away.  
  
This time, like all others, would probably leave someone with a distinct red mark on their face.  
  
Sato seemed to help that come sooner, having just noticed Bulma, she came bounding along, escaping her mother Nashi's side, and quick to interrogate Bulma. As soon as Bulma noticed Sato skipping over, Bulma was quick to send a good- natured smile towards Sato's mother; Nashi, who returned it sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed about her child's inquisitive nature.  
  
Bulma, knowing this would most likely require the use of two hands, put her washing basket on top of the washing machine, before letting her arms dropped to her side, awaiting Sato's appearance at her side. Not half a second later Bulma was berated with a question "Can you speak in tongues, strange lady?", strange lady being the name she had been dubbed by the child, Bulma turned slightly red, she had never been too fond of that name, it made her feel, different...in a bad way.  
  
Bulma made a growling sound in the back of her throat, finding herself easily angered today, she'd like to blame it on PMS...  
  
Except, the Neural Control Chip prevented her from experiencing it.  
  
"No. Sato...I. do. not. speak. in. tongues." Bulma growled out each word, the sound of the grinding of her very own teeth filled her ears. Sato didn't seem to notice, and continued on regardless.  
  
"Your a girl right?" It was a rhetorical question as much as it was a conformational question; Sato squinting as she excitedly poked Bulma somewhere, just to make sure.  
  
Bulma made a strangled shriek sound as she tried to prevent herself from screaming, and settled on gently slapping the girl's prodding hand away. "YUP!" Sato exclaimed, grinning in triumph "You are a girl."  
  
Bulma did not even dignify that exclamation answer, not that the young girl was waiting for one.  
  
"Well...IF your normal..." Sato began, placing too much emphasis on the word 'If' for Bulma's liking. Bulma liked to think of herself as extraordinary, but in this context she at least liked to think of herself as normal.  
  
How degrading could one conversation get?  
  
Not that this was much of a conversion; most of it was Sato speaking, not really any conversing was actually occurring.  
  
"I am normal!" Bulma insisted, only to be waved off dismissingly by Sato.  
  
"IF your normal" Sato repeated insistently, before continuing on the sentence she had yet to finish "You should find boys icky...right?" the girl asked eagerly, staring at Bulma hopefully, waiting on her very answer.  
  
Bulma gave the child a strange look, unable to comprehend the sentence. Bulma had not been friends with any girls as a child, so boys being icky, was just not a concept known to her, if anything, she had always been informed that girls were the icky ones.  
  
But that's what having fours guys for friends will do to you.  
  
Bending down to Sato's level, all traces of her recent anger gone, Bulma raised an eyebrow curiously.  
  
"Boys...are icky?" she asked in a tone that suggested she was the confused child, and not Sato. Sato looked scandalised with such a revelation, gasping, she covered her mouth, looking slightly worried for Bulma.  
  
"Oh yes...of course!" Sato whispered to Bulma, her eyes wide with wonder, and disbelief.  
  
"Why are they...icky?" Bulma asked, finding herself feeling strange referring to Kakkarot, Radditz, Brolly, and Vegeta as 'Icky'.  
  
But Bulma's question seemed to confuse Sato.  
  
"Why...are they...icky?" Sato repeated, looked utterly perplexed, as if the thought never occurred to her, and it most likely hadn't.  
  
Bulma, still feeling like the child was superior to her on this particular subject, blinked once or twice, in a cute show of her confusion, while she awaited Sato's deliberation.  
  
For about fives minutes, Bulma said nothing, while the little girl scrunched up her face in deep thought, once in a while sneaking a glance at her brother who was busy talking to a friend of his, who was also doing laundry. Staring at a male or two didn't seem to help her derive an answer, and after a few seconds after her face began turning pink in frustration.  
  
"WELL, I DON'T KNOW...THEY...THEY...THEY JUST ARE!" Sato exclaimed, immediately crossing her arms across her chest in a huff, pouting defiantly.  
  
That was when Sato lost all her credibility with Bulma.  
  
"I've got laundry to do Sato." Bulma told her in a flat voice, straightening as she stood up. The look she gave Sato did not seem to scare the child like it did most men, it was a silent warning, and Sato, must have took the hint.  
  
"oooh, okay!" she told Bulma unperturbed, her little face smiling, the frown she had mere seconds ago had vanished completely. And, as cheerfully as she had skipped over to Bulma, she skipped back to her mother equally as so.  
  
"Strange child." Was all Bulma muttered, before, she, hopped on top of the washing machine, next to the cane basket, letting her legs hang over the edge. Bulma, getting bored after promptly 3.5 seconds, she once again scanned the room, Bulma was glad to see Kani was no longer glaring at her, he was too busy with the children that Nasu had had put into his care while she dealt with the laundry, putting one load into a drier on the other side of the room.  
  
Smothering a snicker under her breath as she watched two of his children crawling all over Kani, pulling at his hair, Bulma tried not to linger on the sight. Instead, she passed over Sato, who was busy tormenting her 16 year old brother Shio, was trying to ignore her, and chat to his friend.  
  
He wasn't very successful mind you.  
  
Bulma shook her head in empathy for the poor boy, she knew exactly what he was going through. Once again, she looked around the room, other than a few different saiyajins she knew from seeing them around, or using the facilities, Bulma knew no one else by name, or scenario.  
  
Except, Hachi and Niku, a scandal wanting to be exposed. Hachimitsu, or Hachi' for short, was the young, and unbelievably attractive for a saiyajin, wife of one of the head guards, Tai.  
  
Oh yes, Tai's beloved wife was having an affair, a very public one at that. Everyone knew about it, EXCEPT Tai himself, and no one seemed to desire to actually inform Tai about it.  
  
Tai wasn't very popular, with all his rules and regulations about everything, not to mention he couldn't take anything light-heartedly. Tai also happened to be the one who informed King Vegeta about the law that separated her and Vegeta.  
  
So, Bulma was more than happy to encourage the affair between Hachi and Niku; a low class solider. Niku, Bulma knew personally from her affiliation with both Vegetas', and with her time spent certain soldiers, he was a nice guy, a little simple minded, but he was more than just mildly attractive.  
  
For a guy who was only just over the required power level to be a castle guard, he sure made up in looks what he lacked in power.  
  
Bulma smirked greedily, as she watched Niku's exposed muscled chest, he was wearing nothing more than a white towel around his waist, as he ran around the large room, trying to get certain articles like clothes, and sheets and what not clean. Although, he seemed to be calm compared to his panicked lover, who was running around in a fuss, also wearing nothing more than a towel.  
  
Maybe it was hidden admiration she had for the two lovers, who didn't let anything, not even a very high-ranked husband, stand between them, and the passion they had for each other, that Bulma walked towards them.  
  
Or maybe it was just because she felt sorry for them, having to sneak around and lie like they did, just so they could see each other.  
  
But, for whatever reason she did it, Bulma bent down on the floor, sitting on her legs that were folded under her. Her tired long fingers reached for an object dropped by accident, sitting on the ground, the white colour of the bra material blending in almost perfectly with the tiles.  
  
Bulma took the garment into her two hands, looking at it with a secretive smile; one that suggested many tales had been experienced by the still relatively young woman.  
  
One might wonder, what would make a white bra bring that smile to her face?  
  
More than likely, no one would ever know.  
  
Lifting her off the ground, Bulma stared at the white bra, still thinking, but the grin on her face would not fade. Instantly making a decision, Bulma ran towards where Hachi and Niku were standing, waiting, not so patiently.  
  
But, as soon as they saw Bulma now standing directly in front of them, Hachi stopped fiddling inconsistently with her fingers, and Niku stopped tapping his foot impatiently.  
  
"Err..." Hachi said nervously, not quite sure if this was an alien custom to stand around doing nothing like she was.  
  
Hachi didn't know Bulma very well, but in her opinion Bulma had always been a nice young woman, if somewhat strange, so Hachi believed Bulma wouldn't just stand there and say nothing  
  
"Is there something you wanted Bulma?" Niku asked worriedly, uneasily playing with his towel rapped around his waist tightly.  
  
Bulma nearly blushed at the sight of Niku standing over her, his voice filled with concern as he smiled gently at her, beads of water, or maybe it sweat, dripped down his torso.  
  
She'd had this fantasy more than once before...  
  
Although, Vegeta and chocolate sauce were usually also involved.  
  
Bulma smiled, Niku would never be able to forgive himself if the girl Radditz liked was hurt, Hachi seemed to think the same, attentively putting her hand on Niku's shoulder, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder as she did.  
  
"Yeah, are you okay Blue?" Hachi asked, a possessive smirk adorning her face, letting Bulma know she had seen her staring before. If possible, Bulma flushed a deeper shade of red, having known that she had been caught out, but fortunately, Hachi seemed to take it all it good humour, and you'd probably have to with a lover that good looking.  
  
With that in mind, Bulma felt less shy around the two lovers, even if the idea about what they actually DID before they arrived at the laundry, still made her cheeks warm.  
  
"Erm...um..." Bulma stuttered, finding herself at a loss for words, eventually not being able to think of anything to say, she simply held the white bra out for Hachi to take from her.  
  
One of Hachi's beautifully shaped black eyebrows shot up questioningly, but all Bulma did was smile uncertainly, and insisted "Here". Staring back down at the bra again, Hachi found herself recognising the specific item of clothing, and so, didn't question Bulma's strange actions.  
  
"Oh...thank you" Hachi said, taking it gratefully out of Bulma's hands, her fingers distractedly running over the fabric, as she itched to hurry up and clean it before Tai was home. Bulma felt bad for Hachi, having known herself what it was like to be kept away from those you love.  
  
Bulma leant forward, and whispered something in Hachi's ear. Hachi looked confused, maybe because of what Bulma had said to her, or maybe because Bulma had spoken when minutes ago she couldn't seem to find a word to say.  
  
As Bulma pulled away, Hachi looked puzzled, her brow was creased, but as she threw a questioning look at Bulma, something seemed to click, and she smirked. A seductive smile playing on her lips, Hachi pulled Niku along by the hand, and out of the laundry.  
  
To who knows where, doing who knows what.  
  
But, no matter where they were, no matter what they were going to do....  
  
At least now, they knew Tai was working late tonight.

* * *

When Bulma returned later that night, she resumed the little routines of which had become a habit. As soon as she entered the door, she immediately looked from side to side, as if she couldn't remember what to do next, although as she cast her view around the room, she knew exactly what to do.  
  
Maybe she was just tired.  
  
Heaving a large, exhausted sigh, Bulma allowed her eyes to drift close for a second, instinctively walking across the room, not needing the aide of sight to guide her as she made her way to the couch. She longed to flop down onto the couch, relishing in the old, and worn, but ever so familiar, not to mention comfortable material.  
  
Instead, she silently placed the basket, filled with clean, and folded clothes, on the couch in the place she would have sat. She settled for standing over the side table, that sat conveniently placed next to the couch, a saiyajin version of a phone residing there.  
  
It was a white metal-like sphere that had several red buttons on it. It was a simple looking object, and relatively as simple to use, although if you were Bulma, you would know all about the multi-phase...err...ummm...  
  
In other words, it was complicated.  
  
Bulma's eyes opened reluctantly, although, she only opened them half way, too tired to do otherwise, and the dimmed light in the room, also added to her desire to sleep. Bulma right hand reached towards the small sphere, allowing it to hover above it for a moment.  
  
The sphere made two short beeps, as a large, slightly transparent hologram screen appeared at eye level.  
  
This did not faze Bulma in the slightest, although she did wince slightly as the a crackle emitted from the screen, little symbols, resembling 'L's, 'O's, and squares flashed upon the screen. The saiyajins' native dialect flashed, what Bulma read as the current date, before Bardoc's face appeared.  
  
"If you viewing this now, I know your still up, now go to bed Bulma..." Bardoc's voice commanded gruffly, before the screen faded to black, displaying the words 'end of message' in saiyajin. Bardoc often left these messages while Bulma was still out doing one thing or another, late at night, so when she returned she had someone to scold her about getting to bed, which she would like to do anyway, and Radditz would probably tell her the same thing if he was awake.  
  
Bulma smiled warmly at the screen, as if it had been Bardoc himself, he, like King Vegeta, was like the father she never really had, and she appreciated it greatly, not that she didn't feel slightly indignant about being told what to do, given that she was a fully grown woman.  
  
But either way she felt touched, maybe it was the fact she was drunk with exhaustion that she felt like she did, but she couldn't help but rap her arms around herself.  
  
A soft chuckling brought her out of whatever thoughts she was having. Looking up through her dreary eyes, she saw Radditz standing there, looking like she felt, tired, and strained like a rubber band pulled beyond it's limits.  
  
She returned his smile, only hers was slightly more forced than his, only slightly though.  
  
Radditz made his way out of the hallway doorway, and into the actually lounge room itself, sitting on the back of the lounge, a trait he would have usually scolded Kakkarot for doing, but he was too tired to care.  
  
So no one said anything as the next message began.  
  
"Radditz...Radditz...RADDITZ!!! I KNOW YOUR HOME, WHY WON'T YOU RETURN MY CALLS-" Irritated by the saiyajin woman's voice, and rather embarrassed about the nature of the call, Radditz was rather quick to push one of the smaller round buttons on the 'phone', making a long beep that signalled the message was deleted.  
  
Bulma laughed, louder than she intended, but these calls were an often reoccurrence, and she found no end to her amusement in them. It was a 'Radditz' call, as Bulma and Kakkarot liked to refer to them, due to the fact that all that was usually said in the call was Radditz name being screamed over and over again, about 'why hadn't he called?!' and other such things.  
  
The first 'Radditz' call had been saved for prosperity, so Bulma and Kakkarot could replay it over and over again.  
  
They thought it was hilarious.  
  
But for Radditz, they only served to bring attention to, and arise unwanted questions, none of which he yet had answers for.  
  
Sensing a change in the mood, neither Bulma, nor Radditz said anything as an uncomfortable silence engulfed the room, Bulma staring at the floor, while Radditz chose to look off into the distance, rubbing his arm self- consciously.  
  
"So..." Radditz started, trying to think of something to say to make the situation less uncomfortable, hopefully prompting Bulma at the same time to say something herself.  
  
"So...um..." Bulma shifted nervously, instinctively trying to tuck her fringe behind her ear, only causing it to fall straight back into place considering it was too short to do that, not that it stopped Bulma from trying. Radditz stared at Bulma, in particular her lips as she chewed on them in frustration, he tried not to stare too long, and blushed scarlet as soon as she turned to him, surprising him when she exclaimed "OH!" unexpectedly.  
  
He stared at the floor, ashamed of being caught staring so openly, his eyes remained downcast until he meekly took another glance at her, pretending to have not just been caught out, not that Bulma had noticed anyway.  
  
"Oh?" he asked feebly, watching as Bulma proceeded to the lounge, only an arms length from where he stood.  
  
The temptation was great, especially considering Bulma was yet again wearing nothing but a shirt, and even better was the fact, it was one of Radditz's shirts that Kakkarot had borrowed...  
  
Radditz couldn't wait to wear that shirt, the mere scent of her skin against his own...  
  
It was with that thought, perverted imagery began to surfacing in the saiyajins mind, only making him go more noticeably flushed red. The red clashing terribly with his tan skin, but as Bulma began to extract a pile of washing from the cane basket on the couch, all thoughts fled his mind, as curiosity took over.  
  
"I did the laundry tonight" was all she simply, originally said, stretching her arms forward, presenting the clean folded clothing to Radditz, like a gift. Radditz stared at it before taking it off her, pulling it closely to his chest, then looking up at Bulma, she smiled at him, and for a brief moment he didn't even care that she had seen his dirty underwear....  
  
But, the moment didn't last long, as soon as Radditz smirked, for Bulma it was over. For in that instant, it was like she was standing in front of Vegeta, the likeness seemed uncanny, or maybe she was caught up in the moment, but either way, she felt the insane urge to kiss him.  
  
But, deep down, she knew it wasn't Vegeta, and so averted her gaze to the floor, in hopes to resist the temptation.  
  
Radditz seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere, and he had a pretty good idea what had caused it.  
  
How he resented Vegeta so.  
  
The moment between the two had faded, Radditz let his blush slowly fade as he tried to control his thoughts, and he paid attention to what Bulma was doing, which was yet again fidgeting nervously.  
  
Radditz allowed himself the luxury of scowling faintly, once again finding himself unable to meet her eyes.  
  
The sound of soft footsteps padding along the floor, made Radditz's head snap up, Bulma was standing beside him, about to continue her way to her room, but had paused, waiting till his head turned to meet her gaze, and she whispered two words: "I'm sorry".  
  
So many thoughts ran through his head, as Bulma leant forward and kissed his cheek, his confusion was displayed in his eyes, and he didn't try to hide it. She continued down the hallway before turning to look at Radditz who was following her with his eyes.  
  
Pausing for a moment, but not turning to meet his eyes, she spoke in a melancholy, far off tone 

"I had an accident, I died your underwear pink".  
  
And though it was the truth, his pink under wear on top of the pile as evidence, there was something in her voice that let Radditz know, she was referring to a lot more than just forgetting to separate the whites from colours....  
  
To Be Continued...

* * *

Name meanings (in order of appearance):  
  
Nasu - Eggplant. 

Kani - Crab.  
  
Sato - Sugar.

Shio - Salt

Nashi - Pear  
  
Hachimitsu - Honey

Niku - Meat

Tai - Snapper  
  
Till next time, Tenshi Kanashii


	6. Love and Friendship

I wrote this nearly two years ago so forgive me if it's unbeta'd, or written as intelligently as I have the capability to do so now, for i do not have the time to correct such mistakes - but I hope you enjoy none-the-less.

* * *

Chapter : Love and Friendship

Love may not be love without friendship,  
but friendship isn't friendship without love...

"Iie...er..what I mean is, 'no' Kakkarot..." she corrected with a faint smile, feeling quite tired, but smiled showing that despite her own feelings, she was willing to continue on regardless, but gingerly touched her temples, restraining herself from rubbing them.  
Kakkarot grinned sheepishly, feinging to have not been perturbed by Bulma's slip.

Bulma often slipped during her 'nihon-go' lessons, or that what Kakkarot thought she called her native language.  
One minute Bulma would be instructing him how to introduce himself, the next minute she would be, what Kakkarot thought was, rambling on insensitantly in her native tounge.  
Kakkarot would stare in awe as she spoke, the words would litterally roll off her tounge, and into his ears, like honey dripping from a spoon.

Kakkarot liked this comparison.

Kakkarot liked food.

Kakkarot stared off in a far off direction, daydreaming about honey no doubt.

Meanwhile, Bulma who was tired enough already without having to deal with Kakkarot's wandering mind, waved her hand infront of his face, trying to regain his attention, as if it was a simple task.

She rolled her eyes when Kakkarot starting drooling slightly, confirming any suspicion, that may have existed, about what Kakkarot was daydreaming about.

Yummy...

"Kakkarot..."

Yellow...

"Kakkarot..."

Sticky...

"KAKKAROT!" Bulma shrieked, having failed at all other attempts to rouse Kakkarot from his little fantasies, she rose her voice.  
Under 'normal' circumstances, bulma would have been quick to just yell kakkarot's name, and not have tried to subtly try to snap Kakkarot out of his trance like state. But considering Bulma and Kakkarot had been secretly undertaking these lessons, without even Radditz's knowledge, it would be a good idea to not wake the oldest member in the house, and especially when it's after 3am.

Fortuantly though for everyone, especially the sleeping soilder 'on duty' down the hall, Kakkarot seemed to snap out of it, during Bulma's shriek.

"Heh, sorry about that Bulma..." he said as he more or less figured out what had occured, not out of sheer deductive reasoning, but out of the fact Kakkarot bored easily, so this was a very common occurance.  
But despite this, Kakkarot was very interested in learning, he just had a short attention span.

Sighing, Bulma smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes, the sparkle that usually would have been in the blue orbs, would not re-light until she had atleast 8 hours sleep, having those hours undesturbed would be an almost impossible hope.

That was the problem with being on 24 hour call, regular sleeping patterns where hard to achieve.  
And secret roundeuvs at 3am didn't really help either.

So, Bulma scooted closer to Kakkarot on the couch. it was already a comfortable warmth in the room, but the added closeness of the two friends, only made the room seem warmer, and not just when referring to the room's termperature.

Leaning on his bare shoulder, considering Kakkarot wearing nothing but singlet a pair of underwear, Bulma allowed her eyes to flutter closed.  
She smiled contently, lowering her voice, in a hushed tone, she assured him "...juyo ja arimasen"

Kakkarot did not know what that mean't, but he assumed it was a pardon of some sort, in her native tounge.

That or Kakkarot was so tired, he wasn't hearing right, and she could have been referring to lost socks for all he knew.

A passive smile adorning his own face, Kakkarot stared down at his compainon, he was tempted to place a kiss on his forhead, but something restrained him from doing so, and so pulling back an inch, he settled on resting his chin on top of Bulma's head, his eyes fluttering closed, awaiting Bulma's continuation.

Bulma did not open her eyes, but instead, spoke in a small, hushed voice.

"Repeat after me, Kakkarot" Bulma told him, before makign a small, breathless sound of contentment.  
Kakkarot made his own sound of contentment, a grunt like affirmation that he would do as she had asked.

Bulma smiled, before it disspeared to a yawn, her lips contorting into a relaxed expression, before she continued, assured that she had finished yawnining, yet the possibility of another one occuring soon, was not at all ruled out.

"Watashi no namea wa Kakkarot desu" she told him slowly, carefully pronoucing each syllabol, of each word.  
Kakkarot grinned widely at her pronoucation, it seemed as though, everthing was said much sharper in her language.

'Kak-ka-rot' was said in a higher tone, if Kakkarot was 10 years younger, he might have laughed at Bulma voice, which seemed almost completely different, just by changing her tone and pitch.  
Well, ten years younger, or not he would laughed now too, but he was too tired.

If possible, Kakkarot's smile became more pronounced, and he settled for whimsically burying his head in Bulma's short blue hair, which seemed to naturally scruff, as Kakkarot nesstled his head in it.

"Wa-ta-she...no...na-may-e-a...wa...Kak-ka-rot...de-sue?" he repeated uncertainly, even if he appeared not to be fazed in the slightest if he got it wrong, but instead breathed deeply, revelling in the intoxicating aroma that acompanied Bulma.

It was soap.

The faint smell of a mild soap lingered over ever inch of her body like a unforgetable memory. Kakkarot was not all that accostomed to smelling a lot of people, but he was for certain, there was not many saiyajins, let alone women that smelt this good.

Soap may have not been a good substitue for perfume, but she seemed to use it religously, unlike some lower class saiayjins, who apparently disregarded using the white bar all together.  
Luckily for Bulma, Kakkarot and Radditz had been known to occasionally use soap while bathing.

Even so though, the appartment smelt like the sweat of young men, contrusting dramatically with the milky fragrance of soap that was identified with Bulma, her alternitve to perfume, that the saiyajin culture lacked.

"sugoi" Bulma praised half-heartedly, despite his bad prouncation, Kakkarot had done quite well introducing himself in her native language.  
Although he'd get strange looks, people would basically know what Kakkarot was saying, if he was ever to suddendly arrive on her home planet.

Not like that could ever happen.

But considering Kakkarot only had a limited knoweldge of conversing, simple understanding of words, and setences,  
Kakkarot would have bigger problems to worry about...like trying to ask for directions to the nearest toilet, when the closet thing Kakkarot knew was how to ask was 'does that include insurance'.

Not all that impracticle considering.

We ARE talking about Kakkarot after all.

After that, a lull occured between the two.

Maybe it was a lull, or maybe it was a comfortable silence, one between two indivuals who were so comfortable with each other, words were not needed to be said.  
Being tired may have been a good insentive for not speaking, but it wasn't the cause for Bulma and Kakkarot.

They were just content, exhusted as they were, they were content...

Radditz decided this would be a good time to leave, having been watching them for the last 15 mintues or so, having just returned from sneaking out.  
He was evnvious of Kakkarot's relationship with Bulma, it was so innocent, so pure, so untainted by attraction, and for that reason they seemed to be able to have momments like this, as if they were sharing a life long secret.  
They could have very well been sharing a secret, and Radditz would never know.

Maybe it was meant to be that way, given the fact Kakkarot was the first friend Bulma made on Planet Vegeta, after Vegeta ofcourse.  
It might have been the chornological order she made her friends, that prioritises them in her life, making Radditz prioritised as third, only succedded by Kakkarot, and Vegeta before him.

And while it was flattering, it was also disconcerting at the same time.  
Radditz wanted to believe that hard work would pay off, that the more effort he put into being Bulma's friend, the more she'd actually waft to him.  
But this was not the case, he could say or do anything for Bulma, and she'd appriciate it, but no more, and then she'd turn around and suddenly be snuggled up in Kakkarot's lap, watching some movie with him, not all that interested in the movie per say, but the actual physcal contact that came with it.

There was something intriging about two bodies intertwined, that were not seeking anything but the companship of one another.  
For Kakkarot and Bulma, it was a natural bond, an instantous friendship, despite all the problems between the two indivuals.

Radditz did have one advantage though to his brother, Bulma appeared to be atleast physically attracted to him, she never made a show of it, maybe one sly comment every now and then, just to be nice, but nothing more.

And Radditz would certanly never have this, what Kakkarot had.

So, fienging indifference, which was extremely hard to pull off when he was feeling the way he did, Radditz gathered any respect he had for himself, and the two people closet to him, he walked quietly past them.  
Looking back only once, he ran his tounge over his bottom lip thoughtfully, moisitioning his, suddenly now, very dry lips, and reluctantly turned away, unable to look at the two of them, together like this.

He felt disgusted at them, and he felt disgusted with himself, for feeling like this.

And so, he retreited to the confinds of his room where he would sit on his bed, silently thinking, doing nothing but staring off into the distance, till his emmotions drove him till the point of total exhusation, and he would pass out on the bed.  
To what state of mind he would be in, will never be known by you, I, nor even Radditz himself.

Maybe it was best left unknown.

Kakkarot, despite his image of being a densce young man, could sence his brother's power level, erractically rising and falling, without, what to anyone who had looked in on this situation would believe was, an apparent reason.  
But Kakkarot knew why, but wisely pretended not to notice, for that would surely give his alertness away, and reveal a whole lot.

Gently nuzzeling his neck, trying to snuggle closer to Kakkarot, Bulma smiled knowingly against the crook of his neck, before placing the side of her face on his chest.

Radditz had been right in an assumption, Bulma and Kakkarot, did share secrets, not life long ones, but secrets none the less.

Bulma was secretly teaching Kakkarot how to speak 'nihongo', and even though Radditz knew, they knew that Radditz knew. But Radditz didn't know, that they knew, that he knew.

It was a complicated situation.

"Kare wa osoku kaerimashita" Bulma told him casually in her naitve launguage, her knowing smile not leaving her lips for a second.  
Kakkarot may have not been fluent when it came to speaking Bulma's language, but he was deffinatly more fluently speaking of the launguage than he implied around his brother.  
He could understand a variety of nouns, verbs, adjectives, and even certain sentences, even if he had some dilemma with actually speaking the language.  
Having understood exactly what she had said, Kakkarot grinned knowingly at her words, he replied simply.

"Hai"

And then they smiled at each other, and resumed their embrace, Bulma falling asleep after only a few moments.

With a strange look upon his face, Kakkarot angled his head, to look behind him, in the direction of his and Radditz's room.  
In a whimsical, far off tone, he spoke to himself.

"Yes, unfortuantly, once agan, he is too late..." he turned back to bulma, and gently stroked her hair, his fingers runing through her short blue scruff of a hair, but it seemed as soon as he began to run his fingers through her hair, they were already at the tips.  
He smiled to himself, not even realising as he did so, but continued to run his fingers through her hair.

Bulma moaned quietly in her sleep, her fingers instinctively tightened their hold on Kakkarot's clothing, before slowly realeasing her grip, and with a contented sigh, her body relaxed entirely, becoming limp in Kakkarot's arms.  
Circumming to the inevitable state of deep sleep.

Allowing his body to relax against Bulma's, Kakkarot stroked her hair a few more times, this time rather roughly compared to the first.  
Kakkarot, feeling the strain of the pent up frustration, of having no one to share the burden of his emotions with, he allowed his shaking hands to erratically push her hair out of her eyes, although it was not as if Kakkarot was aware of how rough he was actually being.  
His rough manhandling did not disturb Bulma, she continued to sleep peacefully,and utterly content, it was not a rare occurence, but yet, it was not to comman anymore, either.

So, it made Kakkarot feel, in the way he could only describe as, good, to be having this time with her.

A brief smile touched his lips, before it quickly dissapeared, no evidence that it had ever appeared, before he uncertaintly placed a rough kiss on her head.  
His confusion, and hesitation obvious from the speed of which he had kissed her.

Still looking uncertain, Kakkarot returned to stroking Bulma's hair as violently as before, while his other arm tightened around her small frame, unsciously attempting to hold her closer to him, yet it was physically impossible, and especially not without leaving trails of bruises where his hard fingers had pressed into her soft skin.  
He settled for resting his chin on the top of her head, aside his continusiously caressing hand, making himself comfortable, in a position he knew he could easily fall alseep in.

Finding himself feeling natural in this position, he let his eyes droop, till the point the dimmed light of the one small reading light that was on in the room, became nothing more than a blur.  
Barely awake as his eyes fell to a close, he reflected on his last sentence, and of the last few minutes, his lips barely parted as he muttered;

"Far too late:"

And like the previous sentence, Kakkarot was referring to whole lot more than the setenece was impling, but unlike his previous setence;  
he was no longer referring to his brother.

To be continued...

* * *

Japanese word translations:

"kare wa osoku kaerimashita" - he came back late

"hai" - Yes


	7. Nothing is what it seems

AN:  
I m sorry if this is not to your liking, but It s hard to get back into a story after so long, but I feel I owe everyone who has favourite'd this story or myself.  
Comment me with any suggestions or problems.

Sorry it's not Beta d.

* * *

Chapter 7: Nothing is what it seems.

When we allow ourselves to drown our sorrows, in any form, we condemn ourselves to the mercy of our irrational thoughts.  
Thoughts, feelings and actions we would not usually give into,  
suddenly seem a whole lot more acceptable, and along the way we loose focus of our morals and values.

And eventually, we have to face the consequences of our intoxicated actions...

Vegeta found himself looking at the photo of Bulma that Radditz had left with him, almost an hour ago.

He took another drink.

Vegeta, by usually being an apathic young man, was unable to function when severely emotionally distressed.

He didn't want to feel pain, because he couldn't understand it.

So, he drowned every emotion in a drink. With every swirling of a glass, a bottle, and soon several more bottles, Vegeta found himself becoming less coherent.

He couldn't see, speak, think or hear, and most of all, he couldn't feel once he was unconscious.  
So, sufficient to say, Vegeta had soon become accustomed to this way of life.

Often was he found unconscious on his own bed, lips crimson red from the repetitive staining of the crimson wine where the bottle had been positioned on his mouth, so he could take long, swigs of the addictive liquid.

Vegeta would stay like this for hours on end, until he would finally become conscious again, and reality would yet again become existent for Vegeta.  
Sometimes it would take less than 15 minutes after gaining consciousness, that Vegeta would remember why he had taken up the drink in the first place the evening, or day which ever the case may be, before.

Before long, he would soon find himself having yet another drink.

That was all he knew.

Seeking Bulma through the shadows while she was acting as herself, without enforced respect and regulations, so he could have just a few moments of visual confirmation that she was more than just a pleasant memory, before she became unwatchable for one reason or another, fading into the nothingness.

Leaving Vegeta feeling with a few seconds of warmth in the pit of his stomach, until it all came to a halt, and he was left with absolutely nothing, other than the craving for a drink, one that would allow him to forget these last few moments, and all the feelings that came with them.

Vegeta took another sip, he had come to the decision tonight, that if he was going to feel pain, he was going to make others suffer along with him.

_______________

You couldn't always tell by looking at her, but Bulma was in pain, more than anyone would ever know.

Bulma secretly drowned her sorrows, by crying into her pillows in the darkest hours of the night, in the nights she slept alone, and the other nights she's crawl into bed with Kakkarot or Radditz, just so she could cling to someone.  
And as Radditz and Kakkarot slept, she no longer had to put up a facde.  
She no longer had to feel happy, all those smiles, good cheer, and even her seeming normality of a feisty personality, took their toll on her mind and body.

She was tired of being happy, she was tired of being annoyed, of being indifferent all of which it took to portray herself as "normal" and "okay".;  
She was tired of lying to her friends, just to make them think she was fine, even when they clearly knew the truth.  
She did miss Vegeta, she needed him more than anything, but for the sake of her friends, and for the sake of her lively hood, she had to manage to get through each day, and then, when everything was quite, in the still of the night she released everything she didn't allow herself to feel during the day.

So, she drowned herself in her tears, until she ran out of tears to cry, and no energy to make them fall, even if she had them.

Everything was different without Vegeta, everything had changed, and she wanted him, more than anything.

It wasn't like she never saw him, but it was all in passing, short worded sentences, hello, goodbye, yes sire, it wasn't like what she had before, she'd lost the Vegeta she cared for, only to have him replaced with a stranger that looked like the man she was missing for, searching for....

Kakkarot placed Bulma gently on her bed, having carried her from the living room, after she fell asleep on his chest during the Japanese lesson.  
He pulled the covers over her gently, letting them gently fall against her skin, thinking that by being gentle, that she would sleep soundly.

That was not to be, as soon as the loss of the human contact, became unconsciously known to her, Bulma tossed to the right and then immediately turned to her left, the sheets wrapping around her body like a crisp, white, cacoon, it may have looked warm, and cosy, and physically wise it was a comfortable sleep, but emotionally wise, she was restless, her stress displayed in her actions as she clutched the sheets within her fists.

The creases in the linen seemed to increase for every silent moan Bulma made, throwing her head back against the pillows/  
Turning to her right side once again, Bulma outstretched her hand across the double bed, naturally seeking Vegeta's body to cling to, but when her hand found nothing but cold air, Bulma whimpered, and mindlessly groped for him...for anyone...

It was a pitiful sight indeed, to watch as Bulma's hand eventually slumped down onto the matress, still trying to reach for Vegeta, but no longer having the energy to do so.

Kakkarot could only stare on, as he watched Bulma struggling with her greatest fear:  
Living without a loved one; Vegeta.

It seemed, as if she was suddenly told after years of depending on it, wether she always appreciated it or not, that she could no longer breathe air.  
It was if she was gasping, trying to retain something she knew she couldn't have, but couldn't even fathom not having.

Sighing, as Kakkarot saw a thousand tiny bumps raise up from Bulma's skin, as the chilling air kissed her skin, Kakkarot walked towards the bed, and gently, freed Bulma from her restraints of her tangled sheets, and gently pulled them back up, over her shoulders.  
Noticing her outstretched fingers slightly twitching, Kakkarot stared at her pained expression, it was if she thought that she was reaching for an object, just out of reach, and Kakkarot had a fairly good idea what it was.

He sighed deeply.

Kakkarot, bent over, and retrieved a stray pillow Bulma had sent to the floor during her torment, and slowly, Kakkarot placed the pillow in her hands reach. Kakkarot smiled kindly as he watched Bulma's fingers slowly interact with the pillow, hestiantly touching it a few times, checking to make sure it wouldn't hurt her, and then carefully, they slowly clung to the material and pulled it close to her.

It had seemed, she'd found her Vegeta...

Temporily anyway.

Certain memories can be the most painful to remember, but are often the hardest ones to forget.


End file.
